


A Losing Game

by WhatSoMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, And isnt afraid to take it, BDD, Bathroom Shenanigans, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Smut, Hermione knows what she wants, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Its a tight squeeze, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-traditional Songfic, Oral Sex, Post-War, Romance, Sex, Sexy Times, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, Still HEA, Teenage Drama, That means Big Dick Draco, Yes that's right HEA, bold Hermione, icantdoslowburns, if you know what i mean, notaslowburn, the war fucked up enough, tol/ smol, why wait for what you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 108,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26101189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatSoMalfoy/pseuds/WhatSoMalfoy
Summary: He stood abruptly. "Go ahead, Granger. Run your mouth. It still won't change a thing. McGonagall wants to help me, you want to help me," he was inches away from her face. Not yelling, no. Instead, his whisper was like a hiss that sent goosebumps all over her body. "Don't you see that there is nothing I can change? I am who I am and there's nothing you can do, but I'm stuck with you anyway," he stormed back to his room, flicking his wrist through the air and sending things flying through the room.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 631
Kudos: 399





	1. Torn

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, here is the deal. I am calling this a songfic, because it's my take on one. It is not a traditional songfic being that you will NOT find big chunks of lyrics in this story, nor will you want to skip over them. I will be creating a Spotify playlist with the same name as this fic, but it won't be available until a few chapters in as I will add each song used for the chapter/s as they post, so as not to create any "spoilers". You will find the references to every song used in the notes at the end of each chapter.
> 
> Due to recent events, I am choosing to throw up a disclaimer. I thought that after all these years of Harry Potter fanfiction & the original author's approval of the situation, we could avoid it. Alas, I am being careful and telling you (in case you didn't already know) that the world I am writing in belongs to JKR, as do these characters. I am just using them as I see fit. If you happen to disagree with how I write my story & the characters here within, I encourage you to seek another fic and/ or write you own! Happy hunting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my amazing beta - MissyJAnne85 - for putting me in my place and kicking my butt into gear & making everything seamless and creating this banner for me. I love you!

__

_2nd July 1998_

It had been exactly two months since the Battle at Hogwarts ended the Second Wizarding War. Memorials had been held for those who fell during the battle, of which there were so many. Hermione had been to Australia, found her parents, restored their memories and then returned with them to their family home in Hampstead. She was thoroughly enjoying her quiet life at home with her parents, getting reacquainted and learning of their adventures in the Great Down Under. She had reintroduced Ron to them as her boyfriend and the four of them had spent many an evening together eating supper and teaching Ron all about Muggle boardgames. He was immensely pleased with the television, often requesting for it to be turned on once their meal had been cleared.

After spending these two precious months with her parents, Hermione decided that she would join Harry and Ron at 12 Grimmauld Place. The boys had been there for several weeks already and while Kreacher was doing his best, without much help from her friends, the house remained a pigsty. The ransacking that occurred once Hermione had accidentally led Yaxley there had been cleared, but the work they had begun in their fifth year was in desperate need of continuation. Hermione was not satisfied with those living conditions for her boyfriend and best friend, so had put some strict schedules in place to achieve an optimum result before they returned to Hogwarts for their eighth year. 

An eighth year had been installed at Hogwarts for all of those who had missed out on their final year there. Having said that, the education of the year previous had been seriously lacking, so all students would be repeating the year in order to catch up to where they should be. At least, this is what Professor McGonagall had conveyed to Hermione in her most recent letter. 

Ron had moved in with Harry shortly after the war had ended. Harry had felt the need to begin his life afresh and as he had an already established home, thanked Molly and Arthur for their offer of housing but declined. After more than a year of being out from under the roof he called home, Ron decided to join Harry in this new adventure. Molly had protested initially but had let it go on the premise that both boys would join them for a Sunday roast every week. 

While Harry wouldn't admit it to Ron, he was very grateful for Hermione arriving that day, list brandished in both of their faces and a tone of expectation in her voice. She had moved her things into the room formally known as Regulus', which Ron had claimed and begun her cull in there. 

"Are you sure that there is nothing in here you want to keep, Harry? We will work on every other room together, but there is no way I am sleeping in here while it looks like this. When was the last time you even washed the sheets, Ronald?" She admonished. 

"I'm positive that there is nothing of Regulus' that I would like to keep. But if you come across any photos with Sirius in them, or anything else belonging to him, please put them to the side and I will look through them later."

"No problem, Harry," she smiled. "Ron, get in here and tell me what needs washing!"

"Bossy isn't she?" Ron asked Harry.

"Feels good to be back to normal, doesn't it?" Harry grinned back before disappearing to the Master Bedroom. Up until now, he had been sleeping in Sirius' old room, but as the owner of the property, he was strongly encouraged by Ginny to claim the main bedroom for himself. Under Hermione's guidance, he would rid the room of its dark energy and moulding furniture. But in the meantime, he would get a jump on things, making sure that Kreacher was preoccupied with dinner preparations so the little elf couldn't hinder his progress. 

During the next few weeks, the residence of 12 Grimmauld Place received a huge makeover. Several other Weasley's had joined in the fight against the aging and unused furnishings, Ginny playing a major role in styling what the house would become. Harry, Ron and Hermione had to make several trips to the Ministry of Magic during this time to participate in the trials of many former Death Eaters, to each receive their own Order of Merlin: First Class and to take part in the Returning of the Wands ceremony for all the Muggleborn witches and wizards who had had theirs confiscated under the rule of Pius Thicknesse. 

It was after the trial of Walden Macnair that the trio was approached by Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt and asked to join him in his office for a pot of tea. Even had Kingsley not been elected to the office of Minister for Magic, they would have happily obliged. They rode the elevator together from the tenth level up to the first and once seated in the large round office, Kingsley poured four cups of strong English tea, offering milk and sugar in kind. 

"So, my young friends," Kingsley rumbled. "I believe that Minerva has been in touch with you and you are aware of the repairs to Hogwarts Castle and the structure of this year's curriculum?"

"Yes," Hermione replied while Harry and Ron sipped from their cups. "It will be good to feel safe inside those walls again."

"I'm sure it would," he replied. "However, I have a counter-offer for the three of you."

Harry and Ron snapped their heads up to pay close attention at this unexpected announcement from the Minister himself.

"As war heroes and heroine," he inclined his head towards Hermione with a smile. "You will not be obligated to return to Hogwarts to continue with your education. The Ministry is delighted to offer the three of you a place with the Auror's Academy, a place to train under professionals who will guide you to become one of our Dark Wizard Catchers. All without the usual need of a N.E.W.T completion. If you so wish, that is." 

All three teenagers gaped at the dark-skinned bald man, large as he was with the personality of a teddy bear, he softly chuckled at their speechless response.

"No need to give me an answer yet, my young friends. It is a big decision and something that you should think over seriously. Of course, if you do not wish to become an Auror, this offer can be extended to almost any other Department within the Ministry. Exam results will be waved for the three of you and you need not concern yourselves over your future without them. It will all be taken care of."

"Thank you, Minister," said Harry as Ron and Hermione seemed to be at a loss for words. Though, Harry suspected, for entirely different reasons. "This is a very generous offer and we will be sure to talk it over with each other and our loved ones."

"Yes, thank you, Kingsley!" Ron had snapped out of his stupor.

"You will be sure to receive an owl with our answers before the start of the first term," Hermione told him. "I'm sure you're incredibly busy, Kingsley. Thank you for the tea, but we should be on our way."

"Thank you for joining me. It was a pleasant break to my usual duties, I can assure you," the big man smiled warmly at them as they showed themselves out. 

Back in the lifts on their way down to the Atrium on level eight, Harry, Hermione and Ron looked at each other with a grin before breaking into a relieved round of laughter. 

"Can you imagine?" Ron said. "No more classes! No more exams! No more teachers! No more detentions!"

"A streamline to the career of my dreams? It's too good to be true!" Harry couldn't wipe the grin off of his face.

"It would be a shame, though," Hermione said. "All those years at Hogwarts with one goal in mind and not being able to achieve it after everything we have been through?"

"'Mione," both Harry and Ron groaned. 

"What a buzz kill!" Ron said as he pulled her to him and nuzzled his nose against her neck, face buried in curls. While Harry stood by and laughed.

This was exactly how they were found as the lift doors opened at the Atrium to reveal Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. 

Harry cleared his throat as Ron and Hermione looked up to see the unamused expressions of their audience, breaking apart instantly and the laughter dying on their faces. 

The Malfoy trial had been the week before and all three family members had been tried. Lucius had been found guilty of multiple counts of murder and treason, harbouring fugitives in his home and kidnapping and sent directly to Azkaban Prison. While Narcissa had been found not guilty on the charge of kidnapping and harbouring those same offenders. With the use of Veritaserum, she had confessed to being under duress. Draco was unable to be tried as an adult for his crimes of the sixth year and had thus been excused from further prosecution, with the help of the statements from the Golden Trio on behalf of both mother and son. After all, if it weren't for Draco delaying the arrival of Voldemort to his home by not confirming Harry's identity and the action of Narcissa lying about Harry's death, none of them would have survived nor the war won on their behalf. 

The tension between the Golden Trio and the Malfoys had a very different air about it now, both parties knowing they were in debt to the other and somehow still not coming to a truce. The air grew thick with it until awkward hellos were exchanged and Harry, Ron and Hermione exited the lift so that Draco and his mother could enter it. 

Ron and Hermione clasped hands and walked together alongside Harry towards the fireplaces to Floo home. Stepping into the kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place felt oddly normal to Hermione already, as if it were a place she would be calling home for a long time to come. Kingsley Shacklebolt had dropped a bomb on them but she didn't have to think about which avenue she wanted to take. Finishing her education at Hogwarts was what she was meant to do, there was no question for her - even if the offer to get a jump start on her career was incredibly tempting. However certain she was of her future, she was equally uncertain which pathway the boys would take. Harry had always referred to Hogwarts as his home, so maybe he would stay on. Ron could certainly use the extra discipline that came with a job, but he would also benefit from continuing his education. Hermione felt strongly that they should stick together as they had always done and that staying at Hogwarts would be the best thing for all of them. Having said that, she couldn't force either of them into staying on for the extra year.

Having heard the Floo system activate, Kreacher had emerged from his closet and begun loading the table with everything needed for a complete Devonshire Tea. One thing was certain, if they did decide to work for the Ministry this year, Kreacher would not let them starve. Pouring the tea out into three cups, Harry started the conversation again.

"What do you think we should do?" He asked.

"I think we should return to Hogwarts," Hermione said immediately, piling jam onto her scone and reaching for the clotted cream.

"Of course, you do," Ron said around a mouth full of his own.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What do you think, Harry?"

"I think I'm going to do it," he replied, eyes alight. 

"Really?" Ron and Hermione asked in unison.

Harry nodded, chewing on his scone. "I feel like it's the right step for me. What would going back to Hogwarts achieve? If last year had been normal, we'd be finished already and this would be the natural progression." Ron was nodding his head in agreement, already reaching for another afternoon snack from the tray. 

"Yes, but last year wasn't normal and we haven't finished our education," Hermione countered.

"Didn't it feel like the end of something, though? The battle, I mean," Harry said. "It sort of feels like that was the end of it for me. Hogwarts was my home for six years, where I felt the most secure - even with all the shit we went through - and got ourselves into," he admitted upon a look from Hermione. "It did. It felt like home, but not anymore. The war there was the final piece of the puzzle played out. Now this place is home and I think I'm going to live here for many years to come," he said with a final nod. 

Hermione sighed. "Promise me that you will at least sleep on it before you decide?"

"I don't think it will make a difference, but I promise to sleep on it before I tell Kingsley anything." 

Hermione nodded in sad acceptance. "And you Ron? What will you do?"

"You're definitely going back to Hogwarts?"

"Definitely."

"Then that's where I will go, too," he said with a sheepish smile. Hermione leaned over and kissed him soundly on the mouth. "Thank you," she smiled against his lips.

"Ok, ok. Enough of that you two. You have a bedroom upstairs for that kind of behaviour," admonished Harry with a wink. 

"Don't mind if we do," Ron grinned, pushing his chair back and offering his hand to Hermione. 

"Ron!" she slapped his hand away.

"What?" He laughed, taking his seat back and picking up his teacup. Harry and Hermione joined in on the laughter. As Hermione wiped a tear of mirth from her eye, she couldn't help but feel the pang of sadness at the idea of Harry being away from them for the next year, as if a link in the chain was coming undone. 

_1st August 1998_

No longer under Unplottable, 12 Grimmauld Place was able to receive owls delivering the post. Harry had wanted people to be able to visit without the necessity of a Secret Keeper. He did, however, request that his address never be shared with anyone working for _The Daily Prophet_ and in particular, Rita Skeeter. The Ministry granted this request and kept his address off of the public record. Three thick envelopes slid through the letter slot in the door just as Hermione was making her way downstairs for breakfast. She squealed in delight upon seeing them, clapping her hands together as she ran to pick them up. "Ron," she shouted up the staircase. "They're here!"

"What's here?" He hollered back, emerging from their bedroom and pulling a t-shirt over his head. Hermione brandished the letters at him with a grin. "I'll be in the kitchen," she told him.

When she arrived in the kitchen, she was surprised to see Ginny, clad in her dressing gown and clutching a cup of coffee. "Ginny! What are you doing here? Did you stay over?"

"Yes, but don't act so surprised. If mum asks, I stayed in your bedroom. You know, the one you _don't_ share with my brother," she said with a wink. 

"Oh, yes. Fine," Hermione agreed. Molly and Arthur were blissfully ignorant of their two youngest children's sexual activity and both of them wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. "Oh look, McGonagall has sent us your letter, too. Looks like she isn't as easily fooled," she said, handing Ginny her letter before pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

Not waiting for Ron, Hermione tore her letter open, a red pin falling out as she did so. "I knew it!" Ginny exclaimed as Hermione picked up her shining red Head Girl badge. "Congratulations, 'Mione!"

"Thanks," Hermione said with a grin, already attaching the badge to her blouse. She spread the pages of her letter open over the table and reached for a piece of toast. The first page was the standard uniform list and Hermione skipped over it to get to the second, more important page.

_*Required Textbooks_

_Advanced Potion-making by Libatius Borage_

_Futhark Magic: A Study of Ancient Runes_

_The Advanced Arithmancer's Handbook_

_Quintessence: A Quest_

_Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_

_Advanced Creature Care_

_Advanced Herbology Editon Nine_

_Muggle Space Exploration by Greenlee Warren_

_The Standard Book of Spells Grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk_

_Egyptian Origins: Magic of the Ancients by Fauna Smethwyck_

_Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_

_Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_

_A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_

_The Dueler's Art_

_Note: For NEWT students, sixth-year textbooks are also required for NEWT level revision._

_Other Equipment:_

_1 wand_

_2 cauldrons (stone, standard size 1, copper standard size 4)_

_1 set crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass or silver scales_

_1 advanced potions ingredients kit_

_1 set of protective gloves_

_Quills_

_Inks_

_Parchment_

_Blank Journal_

_1 abacus_

_Lunarscope_

_Rune Set_

_Wand Holster_

"Merlin, Hermione. That is one extensive list," Ginny said. "Thank Morgana I'm not taking Arithmancy, Ancient Runes or Astronomy. How are you going to have time to take all of those classes, study _and_ be Head Girl?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione replied honestly. "I don't know exactly what the duties of Head Girl are going to be, but I sure am wishing for my time turner back," she smiled at her friend. "I'm guessing that there will be a lot of late nights and not so much free time on the weekends."

"Don't forget to take care of yourself while you're doing all of that," Ginny told her with her eyebrows disappearing into her fringe. 

Hermione munched on her toast and waved her hand in the air to dismiss her friend's words as Harry and Ron joined them in the kitchen. 

"Merlin's pants, Ginny. Could you get dressed before you come down in the mornings? I don't need to see you in your nightdress when I know you've spent the night in my best mate's bed!"

Harry's face turned beet red, while Ginny flipped Ron the bird and pushed away from the table to do exactly as he asked regardless. "I was waiting for the shower," she informed him, sticking her tongue out at him as she passed, ruffling Harry's wet hair on the way. 

"Geez, Ron. Take it a little easier on them. They don't have so much time left together," Hermione advised him, indicating the lack of a letter for Harry who had already accepted Kingsley's offer. Ron's ears turned pink, but otherwise, he acted as if Hermione hadn't said a thing as he smeared some marmalade onto his toast. As he opened his letter, a matching red pin fell onto the table. Hermione hugged him tightly. "Congratulations, Ron!" She said. "Head Boy, just like you always hoped for!"

"Yeah," he replied a little unenthusiastically. Hermione didn't notice his tone as she showed him her badge and he congratulated her in return. 

"Well done, you two!" Harry said with genuine enthusiasm. "That's really fantastic, news!" 

"And even better, Ron," Hermione lowered her voice so Harry wouldn't overhear. "Head Students share private quarters," she wriggled her eyebrows at him. Ron broke into a grin at the look on her face as well as the idea of continuing to share a room with her.

"We will have to put aside a day of cleaning and get to Diagon Alley. I don't have a lot of these books and I'll be needing a new set of Runes, as well as the necessities," Hermione told Harry and Ron.

"Sounds great," Harry replied. "I've been dying to get my hands on a new broom!"

"And I'm always happy to skip a day of cleaning," Ron added, searching for a clean mug for his coffee. 

"Shall we go tomorrow, then?"

_31st August 1998_

"Ron, you really should get your trunk packed," Hermione told him as she locked the clasps on her luggage. She shucked her dressing gown off to reveal her silk lace nightgown and climbed into bed.

"And you expect me to do that with you looking like _that_?" He asked, appraising her body in the sheer garment. Pulling her close to him, he slipped a strap off of her shoulder and kissed the skin where it had been. Hermione's head fell back as he reached a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and all thoughts of protest died in her throat. She let her hands roam over his recently toned chest. He had really filled out during the war and she was now reaping the benefit of it as she let her hands glide over his shoulder blades, nails digging in as his mouth sought out her right nipple. 

His mouth travelled down her body until the nightgown was discarded on the floor and her body was arched on the bed, his head buried between her thighs. He knew she was close when she could no longer keep still, her legs twitching on either side of his face. Ron stopped his ministrations on her clit and looked up at her. Eyes clouded with desire, he crawled back over her body and positioned himself at her entrance. Pushing into her, they both released a moan of pleasure.

Biting her lip, Hermione braced herself with one hand on the edge of the mattress and dragged the other down to the already buzzing bundle of nerves between her legs. While Ron fucked into her, Hermione worked on achieving her orgasm at the same time as him, feeling deliciously full. When she heard Ron start to pant, she went overtime with her fingers and they came together with each other's name on their lips. As he pulled out, Ron vanished the mess they had created and pulled Hermione's back against his chest. Sometime later as they were falling asleep, Hermione murmured "I love you," and closed her eyes.

Hermione's eyes flew open at eight the next morning, ready to get started with the day and to be at the train station well before eleven. She bolted from bed, gathered her dressing gown from where she tossed it the night before, put it on and shook Ron from his sleep. "I'm going to shower," she told him. "When I come back, I hope to see you out of this bed and packing!"

"Mmmmph," came his reply. 

When Hermione re-entered their bedroom she was pleased to see that Ron was no longer in bed and already dressed. He was not, however, packing his trunk. 

"If you think I am packing for you, then you can think again!" She told him as she gathered her outfit for the day, navy blue slacks and a sky blue blouse. 

"Hermione," Ron started. "I'm not going."

"Oh, ha-ha, Ronald. I am _not_ packing that trunk for you, get a move on!"

"No, really 'Mione. I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

By this stage, Hermione only had her underwear and her pants on. The blouse still hanging on the wardrobe door. 

"What do you mean you're _not going_?"

"I've been thinking and-"

"Oh, that's novel! You've been thinking!" 

"Hermione, please! I agree with Harry, Hogwarts is over for me. I was always rubbish at most classes and you know I don't have the patience for homework and exams. If I take the N.E.W.T's I'll probably fail most of them - "

"I'll help you!"

"What? On top of your million classes and your Head Girl duties? Shacklebolt is offering me a fantastic career, something I could only dream of before and all without the need of another year at Hogwarts. I can't pass that up!"

"Fine," she huffed, pulling the blouse off of the hanger, stuffing her arms through the holes and buttoning it up with shaking hands. 

"I guess I'll be on my own then and we will get to experience the fun and games of a long-distance relationship!"

"About that... I - I think we should break up."

"You WHAT?" She roared. 

Ron stepped backwards, tripping over his empty trunk, immensely glad that Hermione didn't have her wand in her hand.

"And when, might I ask, did you come to these decisions?" She snapped, tying her hair back into a bun with furious hands.

"About two weeks ago. When the letters arrived," he admitted, wincing as she burst into a fit of hysterical giggles.

"You decided _two weeks ago_ that you wouldn't join me at Hogwarts and on top of that, that you didn't want to continue our relationship? And you're telling me now, right when we should be leaving? Oh, that's rich, Ronald. Really rich!" She had seized her wand from the dresser, swished and flicked it at her trunk, sending it downstairs ahead of her before turning it on him. "I can understand Hogwarts, but why the break-up?" Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes, so she quickly batted them away. 

"Well, we're both going to be really busy and I guess meeting new people and I didn't want us to feel any kind of restrictions on what we could and couldn't do."

"My God. You're breaking up with me so you can go and sow your oats all over Wizarding Britain because you're some famous war hero now?"

Ron winced again at her furiously bitter tone and the stick of truth in her words. "Well," he blustered. "I wouldn't put it quite like that."

"You know," she said. "When you appeared in the Forrest of Dean, returning to us after so long, I thought... I thought I saw a man come to life. You were _warm_ and you came around like you were _dignified_.” Her wand fell to her side as the tears dripped from her eyes and she left the room without another word.

"'Mione," Ron called after her as she raced down the stairs. 

"What's going on?" Harry asked as Hermione appeared tear faced in the kitchen. 

"This conversation isn't over," Ron said, breathless in the doorway. Hermione swiped at her face again, gathering her thermos and filling it with coffee for the Hogwarts Express. "You just couldn't be that man that man I adored," she told Ron before turning to Harry. "He doesn't seem to know or seem to care what his heart is for." She shrugged, swallowing past the lump in her throat, she whispered, "I don't know him any more."

She screwed the lid onto her thermos, plucked a piece of buttered toast from the wire rack on the table and pushed past Ron who was still standing in the doorway. 

"Hermione, wait!" Ron begged. "I wanted to say that we should just take the time apart and when we meet back for the Christmas holidays, see how we feel."

Hermione laughed bitterly by way of response. She was having a hard time processing all of the things coming out of Ron's mouth. She needed time alone to think all of it through because right now, she knew she wasn't being rational. It was like the words were spilling from her mouth without any help from her brain. The laughter died on her lips as she shook her head. 

"Ron, I think you'd better go back upstairs," Harry said, catching on to what was happening between his two best friends. Ron looked like he was going to protest but after opening and closing his mouth several times, he took a hold of the bannister and dragged himself up the stairs. 

"Hermione, I'll talk to him. It'll be fine, you'll see," Harry reached a hand out to clasp her arm. Angry tears pooled in her eyes and she swatted them away. 

"Nothing's fine, Harry. I'm torn and I -," the sound of a horn outside startled her. "I have to go." 

"Hermione!" Ron called, his face pleading with her as he leaned over the landing rail.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! Just stop. I've heard enough. You want it over? Fine, then it's over. I'm going back to school and I'll forget _all about you_ ," she jabbed her index finger at him accusingly. "You _won't_ be it for me. Congratulations, we're both moving on." The taxi cab blared its horn again, longer, louder this time. "I hope you do fantastically in the Acadamy." With that, slammed the door to 12 Grimmauld Place behind her and stepped into the taxi she had called for the night before. Thanking Merlin she was organised, she confirmed to the driver that she wished to be taken to Kings Cross Station. Placing her head in her hands she sobbed, allowing herself the breakdown now that she was out of sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torn - by Natalie Imbruglia
> 
> Hey guys, I'm not gonna lie! I totally stole the Hogwarts 8th year supply list from Snitch Seeker. I made some adjustments to suit my purposes, but if you like, you can find the full list [here.](https://www.snitchseeker.com/snitchseeker-rpg-archives/hogwarts-supply-lists-74850/)


	2. Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the always wonderful MissJAnne85 for stopping me from making a fool out of myself. I owe you, big time!

To his credit, the taxi driver did not say a word to Hermione the whole drive to the Station. It made her wonder just how many crying women he had driven around London during his career. Either it was a regular occurrence and he had learned that it was best to not act on it, or so  _ irregular _ that she had shocked him into silence. Regardless, it had given her time to think, which in turn had bought her some clarity. Just last night, she and Ron had made love and she had fallen asleep in his arms, telling him how she felt. All the while he knew,  _ he knew dammit _ , what he was going to do the next day. Why had he not discussed it with her earlier? Did he think she would talk him out of his decision? Well certainly she would have convinced him to return to Hogwarts with her and then there would have been no need for a break-up. Or to  _ take time _ , as he had so asininely put it. Is that what he really wanted all along? To be single? Did he regret getting together with her and this was his way out? No, Hermione was sure of his feelings after their first kiss in the Chamber of Secrets, had known that her love was reflected in him. He had loved her then, just four months ago, so what had changed? She could accept his reasons for not returning to Hogwarts as he really _ was _ rubbish at studying and did heavily rely on her to see him through, but she always thought that it came down to laziness and not inability. Ron was not a stupid wizard, but he was a careless one. So he had decided to go to the Auror's Academy. Alright, fine. Once he had decided on this plan of action, he had taken Hermione into account, or rather what the lack of having Hermione could do for him. It was no secret that he and Harry were more than popular with the witches now that they were decorated war heroes. It would seem that his ego had finally caught up to him and it was exactly as she had suggested earlier: he wanted to sow his seed wherever he could, while he could.  _ Well, _ she thought.  _ Just let him do that while he can and see how far it gets him. He will come running back to me eventually when he realises his mistake, but it will be a mistake he will have to live with for the rest of his life because Morgana be damned if I will ever take him back.  _ Hermione Jean Granger suffered no fools.

By the time she was walking through the bustling crowds of Kings Cross Station, her tears were dried and in their stead, there was a burning desire to rise above and forget that she had ever loved him in the first place. Passing through the barrier to Platform 9 and 3/4, she realised with a start that there would be no Head Boy to help her carry out their duties.  _ Well shit _ , she thought.  _ Just add another damn thing to the list.  _

Hermione didn't pause on the platform to see if there was anyone she knew there yet, judging by the height of most of the people, they were all first or second years. She made a beeline for the Prefect's Cabin and pulled her Hogwarts robe from the trunk, wrapping it around her body, she attached her Head Girl pin to it, stored the case in the overhead locker and got work on her notes for her fellow prefects. Once all students were on board, she made quick work of handing out their train patrolling assignments and made sure to give them a motivating speech. 

"It appears as though there is no Head Boy this year," she told them as Draco Malfoy slipped into the cabin, a returning prefect who had always been careless of the school rules - not that she was one to talk on that matter. Her eyes narrowed in on him as she continued talking. "I'm not quite sure what this will mean for our team, but if you have any questions for me, I will do my best to have extra hours in the Prefect's office so that you can find me more easily. Otherwise, you can always try your luck at the Head Student dormitory. Should the matter be of an urgent nature, please as always, seek out the nearest Professor to assist you. So, off you go on your rounds or back to your friends. I'll be here if you need me," she dismissed them. "Malfoy, please stay a moment." Several of the other prefects raised their eyebrows at the sight of him but disappeared through the sliding doors nevertheless. 

"Granger," Malfoy said by way of greeting. 

Hermione took a seat on one side of the cabin and gestured for Draco to do the same on the other. "Look, Malfoy. I really don't appreciate your tardiness this morning. Not only does it set a bad example for the younger prefects, but not everyone has the pleasure to know that you're  _ actually _ a decent person. Until you can prove that to them, I suggest that you don't give them any extra reasons to scrutinise you."

Draco eyes bored into her and for a moment, Hermione thought he would just get up and leave so when he stayed exactly where he was, she felt wrong-footed.

"How would you suggest that I prove myself then, Granger?"

Unwittingly, Hermione smiled. He was already working on improving by the simple fact that he was asking for help. From her, no less.

"Well, being on time is a big help. Plus, you could  _ actually _ carry out the duties assigned to you," she held out the patrol schedule with his name highlighted.

Taking the paper from her, he scanned it briefly. "I assumed that your boyfriend would be on this list, clearly marked as Head Boy but I notice he isn't on here at all."

"Not only is he not Head Boy, but he is also no longer my boyfriend. Which is some fun information for you," Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not ready to have this conversation with anyone, let alone Draco Malfoy. 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Really? You two looked quite cozy when I saw you last."

"Yes, well." She snapped back. "Appearances can apparently be deceiving."

Malfoy whistled low under his breath and held his hands up in defence. "Just trying to prove that I am  _ actually a decent person,  _ Granger. No need to get your knickers in a twist. I'll just get back to my friends then and let the She-Weasel know you're free to gossip."

Hermione huffed in response. "Another tip would be to drop the cruel nicknames and call people by their given ones, instead."

"Fine. Ginevra Weasley has been bouncing on her toes to get in here since I arrived. Shall I inform her that you're ready to receive her?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy's faux attempt at being polite. "Yes, please," she said waving him off. 

Two seconds later, Ginny burst into the compartment and threw her arms around Hermione. "News travels fast, then?" Hermione asked as Ginny leant back to search Hermione's face. 

"What happened?"

"Apparently when we got our Hogwarts letters Ron decided that he wouldn't be coming back. He told me this morning as I was getting ready to leave."

"That bastard! I can't believe my brother did that. What an asshole!"

Hermione chuckled without humour and wiped some fresh tears from her eyes. "And then he told me that he wouldn't try long-distance because he'd also decided that we should break-up." 

Ginny said nothing for a beat as she processed this news. "I'm gonna kill him. I'll send him a howler and pack a bat-bogey hex in there for good measure. What in Merlin's name is he thinking?"

"That he wants to screw as many girls as he can before his fame dies out," Hermione replied with a humourless shrug.

"No," Ginny shook her head. "That can't be right. He loves you, I know he does."

"He basically admitted it, Gin. Maybe he does love me but he's put those feelings on the backburner for now. He's not thinking with his head - if you know what I mean."

"That bastard!" Ginny repeated. "Harry didn't say any of that. Just that you'd had a tremendous row and it wasn't looking good between you."

"Uh, yes," Hermione blushed. "Some words were exchanged."

"Good. I hope you gave him some good ones. He deserves it after dropping this bomb on you and at the last minute! I just cannot believe that _ rat bastard _ is my brother! How are you feeling?"

Hermione took a moment to ponder that question. Honestly, she didn't know how she was feeling. Pissed off, that's for sure. Heartbroken? Absolutely. Wishing she had punched him in his stupid face? One hundred percent yes. Initial sobbing out of the way, was she ready to wallow? No, she wasn't. "I'm pissed off, Gin. He gave absolutely no hints that he was feeling this way and has left not only me in the lurch but also McGonagall. We have no Head Boy so now I have even more duties to take on board. I'm heartbroken but not ready to feel that just yet because I have so many other things to focus on," she finished with a wave of her hands through the air to indicate her responsibilities.

"I'm here if you need me. To talk to  _ or _ invent new jinxes with. Whatever you need, ok?"

"Thanks, Gin. What I really need right now is to get my uniform on and get started on my patrol before I let my team down."

"I'll see you later, then?" 

"Sure," Hermione smiled back at her friend. Once Ginny was out of the compartment, Hermione locked the door and pulled the blinds across the windows. 

The trip from Hogsmeade train station to Hogwarts castle was vastly different from any other Hermione had ever taken. It was immediately obvious that the Thestrals were visible to most of the students, particularly those who were older and had fought in the war. There was wonder present on various faces and more still seemed to be a little intimidated by the skeletal winged beasts, yet no students acted on any sense of fear. The students of Hogwarts had come together as a unit to be reckoned with. People as young as they all were should not have seen the things that they had seen, should not have experienced what they had in the last year and then some. But it had not broken them, no it had made them stronger. It had made them survivors. It would take more than the appearance of a team of Thestrals to shake them. 

Arriving at the Castle, Hermione was greeted by Minerva McGonagall while Professor Flitwick supervised the students entering the Great Hall and waiting for the first years to arrive for sorting. 

"Oh good. Miss Granger," McGonagall took Hermione by the arm and steered her to the side.

"Headmistress McGonagall," Hermione smiled warmly at her mentor, teacher and dare she say - friend.

"Miss Granger, as you are aware, we have a position to fill. I have not got a solution for us as of yet, but I do have a lump of coal in the fire that I just need to poke in the right direction." She told Hermione with her thick Scottish accent. 

"Headmistress, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. If I had had any kind of inkling that Ronald wouldn't be coming back, I would have made sure to tell you well in advance."

"Yes, well. It can't be helped now, Granger. Get along to Gryffindor table and I will give you an update when I can," McGonagall gave Hermione a warm smile and a pat on the arm as she lifted her long skirt to hurry on her way. 

Hermione hadn't noticed on the train nor on the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, but as she entered the Great Hall, she felt the loss of students like a  _ Stupefy _ to the chest. The Great Hall should be a bustling hubbub of four long tables, full of students clamouring to see friends that they hadn't for the summer months, wands exploding with new spells learned and a cacophony of noise. None of these things assaulted Hermione's senses as she made her way to the top end of the Gryffindor table. The usual noise she associated with this room was missing and while the occasional bark of laughter rent through the air, most of the conversation was subdued and the tables were half as full as they should be. While not all students had stayed and fought during the battle, others had had their own losses in their families and others had seen their loved ones sent to Azkaban and had therefore not made the return trip to Hogwarts as of yet.

The sorting and feast passed by for Hermione in a blur. She barely noticed the seven new students who joined the Gryffindor table, nor how well the two Gryffindor prefects did as they led the new students to the common room and gave out the password. Ginny looked on with concern etched all over her face. She had been approached by Seamus and Dean who had enquired about the general summer and enquired not so subtly as to Harry and Ron's absence. Suddenly the far-away look that Hermione was wearing made sense. Parvati sidled up to Ginny as if she could fill the void of her best friend and asked if there was anything she could do to help Hermione through the break-up. It would seem that the news had made its way down the table. Hermione thankfully appeared to be as oblivious to this as she was to everything else that evening. 

As the meal drew to a close, Hermione left the Great Hall suddenly aware that she had no idea where the Head Student's quarters were. Thankfully Headmistress McGonagall met her just outside the hall and guided her to a door just down the hall from the Prefect's Bathroom on the fifth floor. 

"Well, that certainly is convenient," Hermione commented when she realised how close she was now to the bathroom. 

"Isn't it just?" McGonagall smiled. "Made even more so by the fact that there is a secret passage from your dormitory to the bathroom, so there is no need to leave your private quarters to get there," she chuckled in her very own McGonagall way. "Don't get too comfortable in your own space just yet, dear. I am hoping to deliver the newest Head Boy within the hour."

"Oh, so soon?" Hermione said with surprise.

"Yes, I've already started the conversation and now I intend to go and finish it. Go and get settled, Miss Granger. The password is  _ Sugar Quills _ . You are free of course, to change this as you need or wish."

"Thank you, Headmistress," Hermione said and turning to the portrait of Anne Boleyn recited the password. King Henry the Eighth's second wife smiled coyly before she swung outwards to allow Hermione entry. She sighed in happiness upon seeing how she would be living for the next year. The common area was plushly decked out with well-worn couches of brown, a shaggy cream rug, a fireplace and plenty of places where she could set her books down to study. From the common area, Hermione could see the door that would be the corridor to the bathroom. There were two sets of staircases on either side of the common room leading to what Hermione could only assume were the two bedrooms. She chose the bedroom to the left as it was the closest to the bathroom corridor and made a beeline for it. It had been one hell of a long day and she was more than ready to get unpacked and take a long bath in the luxurious bathroom. She remembered what McGonagall had said to her about not getting too comfortable as she would soon be joined by a male student, but at this point, she could not care less. She waved her wand in the direction of her trunk, sending her belongings into the wardrobe and dresser, hanging the ones she was currently wearing for a quick  _ Scourgify  _ and steam. Clad in her Gryffindor bathrobe and shower shoes, Hermione left her bedroom with a towel slung over her arm and toiletries case in her hand. At the bottom of her staircase, Hermione came to a crashing halt when she saw just who McGonagall was bringing through the portrait. As Draco Malfoy came into view, Hermione dropped her toiletries case with a crash. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that _ Malfoy _ was the person McGonagall was trying to woo into the post of Head Boy. 

Malfoy and McGonagall both stared at Hermione as she scrambled to pick up the contents of her shower bag. 

"Miss Granger, are you quite alright?" McGonagall asked her.

"Yes. Er, yes. I just didn't realise you'd be back so soon with-"

"A former Death Eater as your newest roommate?" Draco sneered.

"No. That's not what I meant. I mean, I didn't know who to expect. I'm sorry. It's just been a very long day and I think I will take my bath in the morning. Uh, goodnight." Hermione turned tail and all but sprinted back up the staircase to her bedroom.

"You do realise, Mr Malfoy, that the two of you need to work well together in order to get the job done? Might I suggest a friendlier manner in the morning?" McGonagall used a tone that made it a little more than a suggestion as her eyebrows rose to her hairline. "This position will do a great deal of good for your reputation not only here at Hogwarts but for your future as well. Do think about that as you carry out your role. You will find your trunk in your bedroom. Goodnight, Mr Malfoy." 

* * *

The next morning, Hermione rose early in the hopes of avoiding another encounter with Malfoy. While their interaction on the train yesterday had been the most civil they'd ever had, she had swiftly bumbled any rapport they had built up with her strange reaction to seeing him in the Head Student's dormitory the night before. Honestly, what had McGonagall been thinking? Draco Malfoy would have to work harder than literally any other male student to win the hearts of the rest of the prefects and student body. She crept downstairs clutching her shower bag to her chest and looked both ways before releasing a sigh of relief. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. 

As she entered the bathroom, she was made immediately aware of why she hadn't seen him in the common room as he was swimming laps in the pool-sized bath. Nude. He looked up as she squeaked in surprise at seeing his bare ass bobbing through the water. "Morning, Granger," he smirked at her. Reaching a side of the bath to prop his arms onto, he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. 

"Merlin, Malfoy. It's a good thing I haven't had any breakfast yet. We're going to need to set up a bathroom schedule. I may never burn the sight of your blindingly white cheeks from my mind," Hermione threw a hand over her eyes for emphasis. When she peeked back through her fingers, Draco was floating through a wall of bubbles, completely unphased by her presence. "Honestly. Are you not in the least bit concerned about this?"

"Should I be?" he asked her still refusing to wipe the smirk from his face. He was like the cat who had gotten the cream.

"I'm not referring to -" She blushed, waving her hands in the air. She would not finish that sentence. He didn't need any more of an ego boost. "A schedule is definitely what we need," Hermione said instead, finding a towel and ditching it towards him as he began to wade over to the steps. He caught it with both hands, keeping it from hitting the water. He ran the towel over his hair as he began to ascend the stairs. When Hermione realised that he wasn't going to be covering anything important before it emerged from the water, she spun quickly away again. 

"Am I making you nervous?" He chuckled.  _ Chuckled! _

"Making me nervous?" Hermione barked out a laugh that did indeed, sound nervous. 

"You can turn around now, Granger. I'm all covered up." He had wrapped the towel around the lower section of his body. 

"Yes, well. Let's keep it that way in the future, shall we?" She quirked an eyebrow at him. Purposely keeping her eyes trained on his face so that they wouldn't notice the way he had grown into his body.  _ Clearly _ , they had a good gym at the Malfoy Manor. But she would  _ not _ notice that because she was  _ not _ looking anywhere but his face. "I'll put that schedule together and leave a copy for you."

"As you wish, Granger," he said as he made his way back to their shared dormitory. 

Once Malfoy was gone, Hermione vanished the water in the bath and waved her wand at the taps to get it filling again. Maybe she had to share living quarters with him, maybe she had a job to get done with him and maybe they'd have to get used to being around each other frequently, but she was damned if she was going to share bathwater with him. No matter the size of the bath. Selecting the Jasmine scented bath oil, Hermione double-checked that Malfoy had left the bathroom before dropping her robe and wading into the velvety water. As she ran her head under a tap and worked some shampoo into her hair, Hermione considered the conundrum that was Draco Malfoy. She would need to ask McGonagall just why she had sought him out to fill the role. Maybe once she understood that, she could try to figure out the personality transplant he seemed to have had. 

Before breakfast and her first lesson of the year (Potions with Professor Slughorn), Hermione settled herself in at the Head Student's office. Discovering where the reports were stored, making sure she was stocked up on parchment, quills and ink. Posting the patrol schedule on the wall, she turned when someone entered the office. 

"Looks like the only place I can get in first is the bathroom," Malfoy drawled, joining her at the wall to inspect the schedule. "Shouldn't I have had some input into this?"

"Sure," Hermione said. "Look it over and tell me if you have any objections," she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to admit that it was perfect. 

"Hmm," he pondered, his face so close to the parchment, his nose almost brushed against it. "Looks like I must have already had something to do with it. I can't find any reason to change it," he accepted with a smirk. 

"Speaking of changes," Hermione started. "Just how did you swing this position? Surely you weren't the most qualified?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. Finding his desk, he sat behind it, leaning the chair back as he propped his feet up on the desk. "Don't I look like I was born for this job?"

"Cut the crap, Malfoy. Be honest with me."

Draco removed his feet from the desk and let the chair rest with all four legs on the floor. He stood and leaned against the desk instead. 

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, and said: "It's all about confidence, Granger."

"Confidence?"

"Yes, you are a confident lady, are you not?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," she said with a hint of confusion on where this conversation was going.

"Is it driving you crazy - the not knowing?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows but otherwise didn't respond. 

"After all of this," he indicated the room and gestured in the space between them. "You'll probably hate me. People who spend too much time with me, usually do."

Hermione scoffed. "We will see. Just spit it out, Malfoy."

He shrugged again, dropping his hands to his knees, seeming to test just how far he could push her, his eyes boring into hers.

With her hands on her hips, Hermione waited with less and less patience. Malfoy sighed. "Ok, fine, Granger. McGonagall approached me and asked if I'd be interested. She appears to  _ also _ believe that I am capable of decency and it seems that she wants to prove it to not only to herself but all of our peers. The old bat thinks it will be good for me to have some extra responsibility to help... distract. At first, I thought she was being ridiculous. I mean, surely she remembers that I was on the wrong side of the war, that I've stood trial, that every damn student in this school hates me."

"Not everyone-" Hermione said, eyes softening.

" _ Everyone _ , Granger. Whether they're willing to admit it or not," he scowled, eyes narrowing in on her. 

_ Fine _ , she thought. _ Let him think that for now, let's see what else he's got to say. _

"So, I figured if she believes I am redeemable, I'll let her think that and I will live in the lap of luxury rather than in the dungeons for this last year of Hogwarts. Well, as close to luxury as this school can offer," he finished with another shrug.

Hermione didn't buy a word of his closing statement. He wanted to be better, she knew he did. He just wasn't ready to admit it just yet.

"Ah, so that was the drawcard," she said with scepticism written all over her face and in her tone. "I'll leave you to enjoy the opulence," she gestured to their measly shared office. "I'm going to breakfast."

As she turned her back, the scent of Jasmine wafted over him and Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat.  _ Shit _ , he thought.  _ I think she knows. I really think she knows. Damn, she's out of my league.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confidence - Ocean Alley


	3. Don't Start Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you as always to MissyJAnne85 for helping work out the kinks!

Professor Arlidge was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Head of Gryffindor House and she was (in Hermione's not so humble opinion) brilliant. She was a Muggleborn witch from the States and she was not afraid to advertise the fact. She often wore denim jeans with t-shirts and white sneakers. She made her classes fun, interactive and interesting. She was one DADA teacher that Hermione hoped would be around for many years to come.

Professor Michaels, the new Transfiguration professor, on the other hand, was a bore rivalled only by Professor Binns. However, it seemed that most of the female students (and some of the male ones too), were happy to forgive him for being  _ so dull  _ because he was  _ so dashingly handsome _ . Perfectly styled light brown hair, tortoiseshell spectacles pushed high up on his nose highlighting bright blue eyes, French accent and outfit complete with a bowtie every day, one could get lost looking at him even if they could not get lost in the lesson he was providing. Hermione was not immune and had also fallen victim to his eyes on occasion. 

Hogwarts had been back in full swing for two weeks now and her birthday was fast approaching. As she had missed out on celebrating her eighteenth birthday, Hermione was considering having a small soiree in her dormitory for her nineteenth. Which meant clearing it with the person she shared it with. Draco had been aloof since their first few days back. Hermione wasn't complaining, though. He was sticking to the bathroom schedule and there had been no more naked incidents, he was doing well in his role of Head Boy, going on patrols and submitting reports on time. Hermione really could not complain about his performance. As someone who shared her living quarters, he was a little messier than she cared for, but the house elves were always on top of that, so again no real reason to complain. She didn't see too much of him outside of classes and prefect meetings and she was starting to wonder if he was purposely making himself scarce. So she had decided to corner him when she knew he would be in their office.

"Malfoy, there you are," she said as if she hadn't  _ known _ he would be. He looked up from the report he was filing. "Here I am, Granger. What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Saturday night."

"What about it?"

"Well, you see, it's my birthday and I was hoping to have a few people come to the dormitory to celebrate it with me if it's alright with you?"

"Ah, yes. Your nineteenth birthday. Tell me, Granger, am I one of those people who will be celebrating with you?"

"If you'd like to be, yes," she nodded, surprising him. "Did you think I was going to kick you out of your own living quarters? Don't be daft! Of course, I'd like to have you there - if you think you can be civil to my guests."

The right side of his lip pulled upwards in an almost smile. "I promise to try. May I invite a guest or two of my own to help balance out the smell of Gryffindor?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the absurdity that Gryffindor had a  _ smell _ . "Yes, Malfoy. Invite a few friends if you wish to add some extra Slytherin into the mix," she said with a smile. 

His heart skipped a beat at the sight but his face betrayed no such action. "Fine, then. It's settled. We will host your birthday party at our dormitory on Saturday evening. Is there a theme or a dress code I should know about?"

"Uh, er, no," Hermione said, caught off guard. The thought of a theme had never even crossed her mind. "No, no. Just your standard teenage party, I guess," she continued with a shrug. She'd never had a _ standard teenage party _ . Every birthday she'd had as a teen had been spent at Hogwarts or on a hunt for Horcruxes. 

"Ok, fine," he said nonchalantly bending back over his paperwork.  _ What the  _ fuck _ does one wear to a  _ standard teenage party _?  _ He thought to himself as he pretended to be absorbed in his report.

"Ok, great. I guess I'll just start sending out some invitations. Did you want me to add anyone to my list or will you take care of it?"

"I'll take care of it," he said with his head still bent over the parchment. 

Hermione rather felt that she had been dismissed. "Ok, great," she said. "I'll... I'll just see you later then," she said as she left the office, closing the door behind her. With the door closed, Draco dropped his head to the desk, lifted it back up and repeated the process several times. Each time his forehead made contact with the solid wood, he uttered a word. "You. Fucking. Idiot. Malfoy!" 

* * *

After Hermione had sent her precious few invitations, things had started to spin out of control. She had wanted a small party with her nearest and dearest plus the inevitable presence of some Slytherins. Somehow, word had gotten out that there was a party to be had on Saturday and that none other than Harry Potter would be in attendance. Hermione had found herself agreeing to request after request for an invitation. In the end, she resigned herself to almost all of the seventh and eighth year students being in attendance. She drew a line at anyone she didn't know or anyone who was under the age of seventeen. She would  _ not  _ have underage wizards and witches at her party. George had declared himself 'the bringer of fun' and told Hermione to expect the drinks to be on him. Head Girl Hermione had protested at first, but Birthday Girl Hermione who just wanted to feel normal for once had caved on the subject. Besides, this was her living quarters, she was more than of age, she knew all of her guests to be responsible and strangely trusted Malfoy to keep his under control. This was her party, dammit and she wanted to have a good time - within reason. She had even sought permission from McGonagall to have the party, though she may not have mentioned the alcohol aspect. So, with permission from the Head Mistress, Hermione had descended to the kitchens to talk to some house elves about supplies for the party. She pressed upon them that she wished to put the snacks together herself, but they refused this request. They promised her a smorgasbord of party foods and told her to think nothing of it, that they wished their war heroine and champion the best of birthdays. With a sigh, Hermione resigned herself to preparing the dormitory for her guests. 

Saturday afternoon rolled around and Hermione found herself throwing outfit after outfit out of her wardrobe and onto her bed in frustration. Why had she not considered what she would wear any earlier? Luckily, Luna and Ginny had arrived an hour early to see if there was anything they could help with. They had barely wished Hermione a 'happy birthday' before she hauled them up to her bedroom and beseeched them to help her put something together. Ginny quickly sorted through the clothes strewn over the bed while Luna directed Hermione to a chair and began to play with her hair, pulling it back and pinning it in places Hermione would have never considered. While Luna played with Hermione's hair, Ginny used her wand to create a makeup glamour on her face, humming and haaring while she made adjustments. As Hermione caught sight of herself in the mirror, she had to gasp. Luna had pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, curls escaping at her temples and on one side of her neck and Ginny had glamoured Hermione's face into something sexier than Hermione could ever achieve on her own. As she looked in the mirror, she pulled at a stray curl and touched a finger to her smokey smudged eye. "I'm not sure about this, you guys. Isn't a bit much?"

Luna thought it over while Ginny dismissed the idea. "Not when you pair the look with the outfit I picked out," Ginny told her, gesturing to the only outfit left on the bed. Short denim skirt, white sneakers and Hermione shrieked "Ginny! What have you done with my Weird Sisters t-shirt? That was a gift from Viktor! Repair it right now!"

"No way," Ginny said shaking her head, red hair flying. "Crop tops are all the rage right now, Professor Arlidge told me so!" 

"Yes, but it looks like you've just used a shearing jinx on it. It's uneven and ragged!"

"And sexy," supplied Luna.

"In a completely casual,  _ who-gives-a-fuck _ manner!" Ginny added.

With a harrumph, Hermione pulled the clothes onto her body and did not wish to admit it, but her two closest girlfriends had managed to make her feel like a normal teenager attending a party. Exactly what she had hoped for. "What do you think?" Ginny asked watching Hermione turn this way and that way in the mirror. 

"It's ok," she said. "I look nothing like me, which is actually pretty cool," she said.

"Mmmhmmm," Ginny said tapping her foot impatiently.

"You look really good, Hermione," Luna told her, twirling the hem of her floral dress through her fingers. 

"Ok, I kind of love it," Hermione admitted to Ginny's triumphant face. "You guys did a great job and you both look really amazing, too!" Hermione grinned. The three girls linked arms and made their way down to the common room, giggling at the efforts to get down there while staying glued together. 

The common room had been completely transformed with a food and drink station pushed against one wall, the lounge suits and chairs all clustered into one corner and a large space cleared in the middle of the room for dancing and mingling. Streamers and balloons were scattered all over the place in red and gold and the number 19 was graffitied all over the walls and floors in gold glitter. "Oh, dear Merlin, who did all of this?" Hermione gestured to the room in general. "Isn't a bit much?" Hermione asked her friends. 

"I think it looks great," Luna said as she picked up a balloon, floating it from one hand to the other. 

Malfoy chose that moment to emerge from his bedroom, holding the fanciest wireless system Hermione had ever seen. He did a double-take as he saw Hermione standing there with Ginny and Luna. "Granger, you uh- you look - er. Happy birthday," he finally managed, cheeks pink.

"Thanks, Malfoy," she smiled. Cheeks equally rosey at the almost compliment. "Any idea where all of this came from?" she gestured to the room as he placed the wireless on the fireplace mantle. 

"Must've been the house elves," he replied, pink cheeks darkening. He tapped the wireless with his wand and as the music started blaring out of it, Ginny and Luna exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Before any more could be said, the fireplace lit up and George stumbled out, carrying a bag full of bottles. 

"Granger," he kissed Hermione on both cheeks. "Happy birthday! Little sis," he pulled Ginny into a one-armed hug before he set the bottles onto the table with the butterbeer. "Lovely Luna," he smiled at her and nodded at Malfoy with a questioning look thrown back to Ginny. "That'll be Harry," he said as the fireplace was lit with green flames once more. As Harry stepped out, he congratulated Hermione on her birthday, hugged Luna hello and pulled Ginny to his side as if he hadn't seen in her in months instead of weeks. The secondary portrait of Anne Boleyn that sat above the fireplace announced that there were several students outside wishing to be allowed in. "I'll get it," Draco said wishing to escape the awkward display of affection that Harry and Ginny were currently engaged in. 

Within moments, the common room that Hermione had once thought spacious was full of people wishing her a happy birthday and then clamouring on to say hello to Harry. Students of every House all crammed into the room, seeking out the most advantageous place to plant themselves as fire whisky, butterbeer, mead and spiked pumpkin juice made the rounds around the room. Moments later, the music became louder and people found a rhythm. There were many people on the dance floor, others had sequestered themselves to the seating area and others were discovering the delicacies created by the house elves. Hermione looked around the room and felt a small thrill go through her. Her party was packed to the brim of friends enjoying themselves as more people arrived through the Floo network. She caught sight of Angelina Johnson in an embrace with George in a dark corner, she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Her party was a raging success. She turned in a circle, searching for Luna. Ginny was busy talking to Dean and Seamus, tucked under Harry's arm on one of the lounges. 

Before she could find Luna, Draco found her. "Tell me, Granger. Are you having a good time?"

"Yes," she said breathless from dancing, she took a long swig of her butterbeer.

"And if Weaslebee happened to show up, how exactly would you want to respond to that?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Like I couldn't give a single fuck because I'm having the time of my life and he can't ruin it for me."

"Good to know, because he's heading this way," Draco nodded over her shoulder.

"Fuck," Hermione cursed. She shoved the butterbeer bottle into his hand, took his glass of fire whisky and downed it in one. "What should I do?"

"Act like you don't give a fuck because you're having the time of your life?" He gave her own suggestion back to her.

"How?" she pleaded.

"Kiss me like you know your ex is in the room?" The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. As her eyes widened, he forced a harsh laugh out of his mouth as if he had been joking. 

She must have been seriously affected by the fire whisky because she licked her lips nervously and said "Good idea."

"I- what?" Draco couldn't get anything else out because she had grabbed him by the neck and pulled his face down to cover his lips with hers. Fire laced through his veins that had nothing to do with the whisky. Despite this, his first instinct was to put his hands on her shoulders to gently push her away. This wasn't a good idea at all, despite what she had said. But as he applied the pressure to her shoulders, she clung tighter to his neck. 

"Please?" She whispered against his lips. 

_ Well fuck, _ he thought as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, hands slipping off of her shoulders and settling on her waist. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. And it was nothing short of magical. With their tongues dancing, her hands reached up and into his hair, tugging just enough to be painful. She started to pull away, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth as she did so. He held her closer for just a moment longer. Kissing Hermione Granger like this in a room full of people was nothing but a recipe for disaster, even if it  _ had  _ been his most recent Granger related fantasy. The fire whisky had emboldened him to openly suggest his personal fancy to her and the reality was a shit storm waiting to happen. A moment later -  _ too soon, too soon,  _ his brain screamed in protest, they pulled away from each other to find not only Ron but everyone else within a three-metre radius staring. Panic was starting to set in, he felt it in himself and he recognised it on her face. "Happy birthday, Granger," he said loudly, signature Malfoy smirk in place as he melted back into the crowd. 

" _ What the fuck _ was  _ that _ ?" Ron questioned angrily, spinning Hermione by the shoulder to face him. "Did you do a full one-eighty? Have you gone crazy?"

"What, Ron?" She responded, pulling him to a quieter corner of the room, where slightly fewer eyes and ears could overhear their hushed argument. "You broke up with me. What did you think? That I would just sit around and wait for you? I'm good already," she seethed. "So moved on it's scary," she grabbed, quirking an eyebrow and grabbing another fire whisky off of a tray floating by on its own. 

"With Malfoy?" he hissed at her, ears tinged red.

"No," she said with another shrug. "Not with anyone in particular but if you don't wanna see me dancing with somebody, don't show up, don't come out and  _ don't _ start caring about me now."

"'Mione, this isn't you, I don't know what's gotten into you!" he placed a hand on each of her arms and squeezed lightly.

"Aren't you the guy who tried to hurt me with the word 'goodbye'?"

"No - I never wanted to hurt you," he said, voice softening. "I never wanted that."

"Stay if you wish, but I have nothing more to say to you tonight." 

She took a sip from her glass, gave him a meaningful look and started to slip away. He caught hold of her hand. When she turned back to look at him, he had a sad smile on his face. "Happy birthday, Hermione."

"Walk away, Ron. You know how," she replied with and disappeared back into the throng of dancing teens. 

This time, she found Luna immediately. "Some people are saying that they saw you kissing Draco Malfoy. I told them that they must be imagining things, but they're insistent and they didn't have very many Wrackspurts around their ears, so they weren't confused, but what a nasty rumour. Though, he is kind of dreamy, don't you think? He was always kind to me at the Manor," Luna said as if her stay there had been some kind of luxury holiday. 

Hermione groaned. Kissing Draco had felt like a great idea at the time, a wonderful way to get back at Ron for the hurt he had caused her but she had stupidly not thought of the ramifications. Merlin, how would she ever live this down? And also, where did Malfoy learn to kiss like  _ that _ ? Hermione brushed her fingertips over her lips before answering Luna. "It isn't a nasty rumour, it happened. I wanted to get revenge on Ron when I learned he was here uninvited, so I kissed him. It was dumb, really,  _ really  _ dumb and a horrible thing to do, but I can't take it back now. Unless you think I can obliviate everyone here?" Hermione joked.

"I think it might be easier to let the rumour die down on its own," Luna twirled in time to the music. "That would require an awful lot of magic. Dance with me, Hermione. Isn't this your favourite song?" Hermione stopped to listen for a moment before breaking into a grin and joining Luna in dance. 

Several hours later, the table of food and drink was seriously depleted, several people were passed out on the lounges or the floor and almost everyone else had used the Floo to get home or stumbled their way back to their dormitories. Ginny nervously approached Hermione in a manner contradictory to the amount of mead she had consumed. She tapped her on the shoulder. "Harry would like to stay the night at Hogwarts... I could take him back to the Gryffindor common room but well, it wouldn't be very private and as you know, boys can't enter the girls' dormitories, so erm, we were wondering if we could stay in your room?"

Hermione who was well under the influence of spiked pumpkin juice by this point  _ believed  _ she said: "Yes, sure, no worries. But you'd better Scourgify the sheets in the morning!" What she had  _ actually  _ said was "Yesshure, mmmmf. Scourgifffffffff eeets mmmm," with an enthusiastic nod that Ginny took to mean 'yes'. 

"Thanks 'Mione," Ginny said with a kiss on her cheek. She took Harry's hand and led him up the staircase. 

"Goodnight, Hermione. I had a lovely time. Did you know that you're a little bit drunk?" Luna waved cheerfully, happy to be the last one awake to leave the party and make sure her friend had enjoyed her evening.

"Gooooshnit Loooona," Hermione grinned, waving goodbye.

When the common room was cleared of guests who hadn't passed out, Hermione found herself in search of a cool glass of water. "Warta, warta, warta," she chanted as she created chaos on the beverage table. 

"Here, Granger," Malfoy placed a tall, cool glass of water in her hand.

"My hero," she managed before slurping the liquid and spilling half of it down her front. 

Draco managed half a smile at her comment but was more concerned about her state of drunkenness than anything else. "Come on, Granger. Let's get you to bed," he said attempting to lead her to her bedroom.

"Can't!" she said surprisingly clear. 

"And why not?" he asked, seriously considering using his wand on her as she fought tooth and nail to go in the opposite direction.

"Harreee n Ginnee," she pointed upwards, making obscene gestures with her hands. 

"Didn't need those visuals, Granger," he grimaced.

"Welcome!" she chirped, heading back towards the drinks table.

"Oh no, you don't," he grabbed her and swung her up into his arms and over one shoulder.

"Shit, Granger. You eating all those books you read, or what?" he asked making slow progress up to his bedroom, to which she responded with a delighted giggle. He plonked her down on his bed and took her shoes off. This was certainly  _ not  _ how he had visualised having her in his bed for the first time, or any time for that matter. Shoes off and discarded on the floor, he drew the blankets over her body and tucked her in. 

"This isn't my bed," she declared, as she grabbed a spare pillow to snuggle into.

"No, it's not," he grumbled, transfiguring his armchair into a chaise decent enough to sleep in. He attempted wrestling the spare pillow from her, but her grip on it had been surprisingly strong. Plus, if he was being honest, she looked adorable with her mouth slightly ajar and curls spilling over his pillows. "Fine. Keep the damn pillow but if you vomit in my bed, you won't hear the end of it!"

"Mmmmph," was her only response. 

Grabbing a cushion and a spare blanket from the chest at the end of his bed, Draco resigned himself to a very uncomfortable night. The most remarkable witch he'd ever known was in his bed while he was stuck on a transfigured armchair. Life sure was dealing him a bad hand of late. Eventually, though, he had drifted off thinking of her lips on his and his hands on her thighs as he carried her up the staircase. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameo appearance from The Jonas Brothers ft KAROL G - X  
> Dua Lipa - Don't Start Now


	4. Stuck With U

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MissyJAnne85, thank you for being my second pair of eyes and being the wind beneath my wings!
> 
> Teeeeny tiny almost insignificant trigger warning for suicidal thoughts. It is a whim of a thought and not a serious consideration.

Draco wasn't sure what time it was when he was first startled awake but by the fourth time he heard her whimper and cry out in fear, he decided he'd slept long enough. So, Hermione Granger had nightmares, too. Not that it surprised him. Years of being Saint Potter's friend had landed her up shit's creek without a paddle numerous times and that was before the war. Though, the way she was begging "Please, I don't know," and "We didn't take anything," gave Draco a pretty good idea of just what she was dreaming of. Bile rose in his throat as he too was forcefully reminded of his memory of that night. Banishing the images from his mind as best he could, he threw the thin blanket off and slipped downstairs. Most of the party-goers who had fallen asleep had found their way back out again, but Seamus Finnigan was snoring up a storm on Draco's favourite sofa, drool pooling on the cushion propped under his head. Glancing at the clock over the fireplace, Draco decided that six in the morning was well and truly overstaying his welcome and prodded Seamus in the side with his wand. "Oi, Finnigan," he whispered harshly as Seamus attempted to keep his eyes closed on the intrusion. "Finnigan," Draco pushed his wand a little further into his classmate's ribs. 

"Mmmmph," Seamus grumbled, eyes cracking open just a touch. "What can I help you with, Malfoy?" he managed in his thick Irish accent.

"Party's over," he hissed. "Get your shit and get out of here. Unless you want to help clean up?"

Seamus muttered something unintelligible but looked to be moving off of the sofa, so Draco moved on to prodding his other classmates. Once his common room was vacated, he pulled out his home potion brewing set and got to work.

When there was still no sign of movement from either bedroom two hours later, he snuck back into his, witnessed Hermione snorting in her sleep, dressed and left for breakfast. 

Sometime in the early afternoon, Hermione started to stir. Clutching her head in her hands she rolled over, reaching to see the time on the alarm clock. She slapped the bedside table a few times in search of the little clock and when she could not find it, opened her eyes to realise that she wasn't in her bed after all. Sitting up, she looked around the bedroom so similar to hers, yet messy beyond compare. Not to mention the green and silver furnishings and Slytherin emblem blazing on every available surface. Mercifully alone in the bedroom, she performed a body pat-down to make sure that all clothes were where she last remembered them to be. _Well_ , she thought. _One small mercy is that it appears that I did_ not _sleep with Malfoy. Not that either of us would ever lower our standards to that level - sober at least._ Slumping back into the pillows, Hermione started to notice things that she hadn't at first. The distinctly Malfoy smell of the linen: citrus, bergamot and something masculine she couldn't quite put her finger on. She caught herself inhaling the pillow. _Just trying to place the scent,_ she told herself. Turning over, she noticed the small vial on the bedside table, a note with _Granger_ scrolled across it was propped up against the violent orange glass tube. Hermione reached for the note and read it quickly, a small smile flitting across her lips.

_You snore like a freight train and you talk in your sleep._

_Based on last night's experience, I think it's best you avoid alcohol in the future. Drink the Pepper Up potion, you're going to need it._

_DM._

Hermione unstoppered the vial and tossed back it's contents. After the initial burst of steam from her ears, she felt an instant shift to her headache and was able to throw the covers back and risk going back to her own bedroom. Picking up her shoes, she made her way back to her room and tentatively knocked on her own door, feeling ridiculous. 

"Yep, be right there," came Harry's voice through the thick wood. A moment later, it opened to reveal him fully dressed and hair mussed in his usual way. Ginny was remaking the bed - thankfully with the fresh sheets she had requested. 

"Morning, Hermione," she said cheerfully. _No surprise_ , Hermione thought. _She_ did _get laid the night before._

"Good morning," Hermione grumbled in response. "I'm just going to get some things together for a shower. Harry, don't leave before I come back, alright?"

"Sure thing, 'Mione," Harry yawned by way of response, making himself comfortable behind her writing desk. 

The Pepper Up potion had done wonders for her headache but she felt last night's makeup like a layer of grime on her face and the smell of Malfoy and his sheets was all over her, which felt distinctly _uncomfortable_ , for want of a better word. As she submerged her body into the jasmine-scented suds, washing the scent of Malfoy away, she couldn't help but think of her lips encasing his just hours ago. She groaned, sending bubbles through the water as she briefly contemplated not coming up for air. As her face broke through the surface, she wiped the suds away and suddenly felt the weight of last night's decisions like a stinging jinx to the face. The drinks she drank, the kiss with Malfoy, the words she exchanged with Ron... She had told him that she was over him when nothing could be further from the truth. She was still feeling the heaviness of heartbreak in every step she took and the confusion of the break-up in every spare minute she had. Kissing Malfoy had been wrong for so many reasons and saying those things to Ron had been a lie. She regretted one action much more than the other, but part of getting over Ron would be to help herself _believe_ that she was over him. Maybe she should start making herself a little more open to seeing other people, just to see where that path would take her. She towelled herself dry and got dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, feeling much more herself than she had the previous evening. 

Harry and Ginny were waiting for her back in the common room, lounging companionably on the largest sofa. "Oh good. Harry, you stayed," she said, combing her wet hair off of her face. 

"I said I would, Hermione," Harry sounded almost exasperated. Affronted, Hermione's next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. 

"I wanted to say 'thank you' for coming last night and that it meant a lot, but evidently my bedroom was a bigger drawcard for you. Sorry to have kept you from your busy weekend," she huffed, marching up to her bedroom.

Ginny sent Harry a scathing look and he followed Hermione back up the staircase. He knocked once on the door before letting himself in. "Look, Hermione. I'm sorry about that. I'm just a bit hungover and Ginny had just told me what happened with you and Malfoy last night. It was a bit of a shock," he confessed.

Hermione was busy putting her toiletries away but managed to roll her eyes at him. "Oh please, Harry. Nothing happened with Malfoy last night. We shared a ridiculous drunken kiss because I wanted to make Ron jealous, to hurt him just a little bit. I didn't think it through and if I could take it back, I would, but I can't and that's that. There is nothing between Malfoy and me other than shared living quarters and classes," she stood with her hands on her hips while Harry traced a circle on her floor with his foot, eyes trained down.

"Right, er, yes. I guess that makes sense. I _did_ come here for you last night, you know. To celebrate your birthday. Being with Ginny and getting to spend the night," the blush on his face caused him to pause. "Getting to spend the night was an added bonus. Also, I'm sorry that Ron turned up. We had discussed whether or not the invitation was open to him and we sort of just assumed it was. Sorry if that was not the case."

"For your future information, Harry. Unless I include his name on an invitation, he is _not_ invited," Hermione softened her tone when she saw Harry's face turn red once again. "Look, I'm sure that one day everything will go back to normal and we all be the best of friends. But for now, I can't trust him and I am not ready to be around him."

"Does that mean that you won't be home for Christmas? I was hoping to have everyone to Grimmauld Place this year," he admitted.

"I don't know, Harry. It's three months from now and I have no idea how I will be feeling then. But it is a lovely idea, I will let you know, ok?" she hugged him. "Ok, go on, get. I'm sure you want to spend as much time with Ginny as possible before you have to leave and I have things to do. Thanks for coming, Harry, really," she hugged him again. "Oh and Harry?" She said as he stepped towards the door. "Ron probably doesn't need to know that I regret the kiss with Malfoy."

"Love you, 'Mione," he said as he closed the door behind him. 

* * *

After a long dinner where she had refuted question after question of an inter-house relationship with Malfoy, Hermione settled herself down at the coffee table in the common room to get some studying done. She had spent the afternoon helping the house-elves clean up after her party - much to their disapproval and now she felt the need for the tranquillity that books offered her. Still too warm to set the fire, Hermione instead flicked her wand towards Draco's wireless to create some background noise while she took notes for Wednesday's Astronomy class with Professor Sinistra. She had been scratching away with her quill against some parchment and bopping her head in time to the music, mouthing either the words she was writing or lyrics to the song when Draco entered the room. For a moment, he stood and watched her while she was completely oblivious to his company. 

After the moment had passed, he stepped out of the shadows making Hermione jump and raise her wand. "Sorry, sorry," she muttered, lowering her hand back down. "Just a bit jumpy these days."

"I'll do my best to make as much racket as possible when entering a room from now on," he told her with a sarcastic tone. "Maybe I can make as much noise as you do when you sleep."

Hermione blushed crimson for just a second. "Sorry, I guess that was due to the alcohol. Thank you for taking care of me and for making the potion. That was truly very thoughtful of you," she smiled.

"I didn't make the potion for you," he said. "I just had it in my stores. A handy thing to have around, you know," he sneered without malice. 

"Mmm, ok," she nodded. "Well, thank you anyway," she said, still able to smell the telltale scent of crushed Bicorn Horn in the air. 

Draco hesitated for a moment but continued making his way to his bedroom. "Goodnight, Granger," he said as he passed.

"Malfoy, wait," she called just before he got to the top of his staircase. He paused but didn't turn to face her. Steeling herself, she continued. "I'm sorry I kissed you last night. It was a knee-jerk reaction and not the kindest one at that. I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you or made things complicated, that wasn't my intention. Obviously, I didn't think things through clearly and-"

"You're rambling, Granger. It's fine, don't stress about it. In fact, let's both try to forget it ever happened, hm? Goodnight," he closed his bedroom door.

Hermione never got to see the expression on his face. His tone had been nonchalant, so she could only guess that it truly was fine and that he intended to forget about it. She would have to do her best to do the same. 

* * *

October had come and gone like a phoenix through the night and November had brought frosty mornings and delicious mugs of hot chocolate, creating an early winter wonderland for Hermione. Winter had always been her favourite season. Yet, as the months wore on, Hermione's mood was only spoiled when it came to Draco Malfoy. At first, he had been tolerable, even - dare she say - likeable. As if he truly desired to become a better version of himself but lately he had been reverting to his old habits. Hermione wouldn't be one bit surprised if she heard the 'M' word slip from his lips sometime soon, as it appeared his mood soured when it came to her as well. He had been retreating further and further into himself, barely interacting with anyone during classes or meals. He had stopped filing his head boy reports and had not turned up to some of his more recent scheduled patrols.

Arms crossed over her chest, Hermione took one last glance at the clock in the Head Student Office. _That does it_ , she thought, slipping off the desk and stalking back to their dormitory where she found him, snoozing on the three-seater.

"Malfoy! Have you been here the whole time? I was waiting for you for half an hour!"

Draco mumbled and rolled over, facing the back of the couch and away from her. 

"Draco Malfoy, you listen here! It is Friday evening, there are students all through the castle celebrating the end of the school week and some of them are breaking school rules while they do it. Wake up, dammit! Malfoy!" Shouting at him was having absolutely no effect, so she decided to take things to a physical level. Taking one of his shoulders in both of her hands, she shook him with enough force to warrant his wrath. 

"What, Granger?" He snapped, moving into a sitting position and rubbing the sleep from his face. 

"Malfoy, this is the third time this month we have had this conversation! You started off so well and now it's like you just don't give a shit!"

Draco continued to look at her uncomprehendingly. 

"It. Is. Your. Turn. For. Patrol," she enunciated each word with a clap in the vicinity of his face. "What is with you lately? It's like you suddenly decided to let yourself drop off the face of the Earth all over again!"

"Alright, Granger. Don't get your knickers in a twist. Why were you waiting for me? As you said, this is the third time we've had this _conversation_ this month. Why didn't you just go ahead and do it on your own? Or get a prefect to do it?"

"Grrrr," Hermione grumbled as she paced back and forth, throwing her hands in the air. "We have a schedule for a reason, Malfoy. A schedule you have agreed to, no less. How can anyone make plans if you don't do your part?" 

"Plans?" he asked, somehow only just realising that she had done something different to her hair, appeared to be wearing makeup and was wearing a tighter outfit than her usual. He narrowed his eyes. "Going somewhere, Granger?"

"I will be. As soon as you get your arse out of that lounge and start your patrol!"

He had the audacity to smirk while he reclined back into his seat, spreading his arms over the back of it. "Since I've stopped doing the patrols and just generally _not giving a fuck_ about being head boy, I've got all this time on my hands. Might as well cancel your plans because I could stay here for a lifetime," he gestured to the common room.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," she shook her head, causing some curls to slip loose. Draco's smirk deepened and his eyes grew darker. "You will get out of that chair and you will get back on the bandwagon, Malfoy! I will _not_ do your job for you any more!"

"Go ahead, Granger. Lock the door, throw out the key, just don't fight this any more. I'm done with responsibility, I've had enough of it to last for the rest of my shitty existence!"

"So you're saying that there's nothing I can do? That I'm just stuck with you? Stuck with you not doing your job? I don't think so! I'll tell McGonagall that you're not cut out for the position and she'll send you back to the dungeons to live with the people you think hate you most," she stomped her foot with rage. 

He stood abruptly. "Go ahead, Granger. Run your mouth. It still won't change a thing. McGonagall wants to _help_ me, _you_ want to _help_ me," he was inches away from her face. Not yelling, no. Instead, his whisper was like a hiss that sent goosebumps all over her body. "Don't you see that there is nothing I can change? I am who I am and there's nothing you can do, but I'm stuck with you anyway. Just let that sink in for a moment, Granger. Because if I'm stuck with you, you're also stuck with me," he stormed back to his room, flicking his wrist through the air and sending things flying through the room. 

" _Finite Incantum_ ," Hermione said when she heard his door slam. Slumping down on the couch Malfoy had just vacated, she sighed. _Looks like I'll be cancelling that second date with Dean_ , she thought. After a moment of feeling sorry for herself, she trudged upstairs to exchange her dress for the more sensible jeans, jumper and sneakers required to stalk the colder parts of the castle. Merlin help them if she came across any canoodling couples. 

She found a scrap of parchment and scribbled a hasty apology to Dean before enchanting it into the same paper plane memos found throughout the Ministry. Aside from a Patronus, this was the fastest method of communication at Hogwarts. Oh, what she would give to get a mobile telephone to work here. 

As she stalked the forgotten halls of the castle, Hermione contemplated the conundrum that was Draco Malfoy. He had started off this year so positively, even before he became Head Boy, he had been _almost_ friendly to her on the train. In the first month back he had been aloof but not unkind, paid attention in his classes, attended to his head boy duties and even helped her throw a birthday party. Not to mention that he took care of her drunken arse that same evening and brewed her a potion to help with the hangover the next day - which he still denied doing. She had been starting to consider the idea that she might _truly_ like him as a person. Had it all been an act that was too difficult to keep up? Or had something happened in his personal life since his return to school? Was it possible that he had just decided to give up _trying_? Hermione had resolved herself to getting to the bottom of it, Malfoy himself be damned. He was right about one thing, she did want to help him though only Merlin knew why. He had been nothing but an arrogant asshole for the first five years she'd known him, a recluse for the sixth and somehow in the seventh, she'd seen something in him that made her think he was redeemable. Maybe she'd been wrong, but her gut instinct said that it wasn't over until the Fat Lady sings - which she was less inclined to do these days. 

When the ten o'clock curfew came around, Hermione met two of the Hufflepuff prefects back at the office and informed them of the points she had deducted from a fifth-year Ravenclaw she had found bullying a second year Slytherin and the two detentions she had doled out to the couple she found disrobing in a long-forgotten classroom. She sent them on their way to round up any curfew stragglers, filled in her report and found herself in front of the Gargoyle leading to McGonagall's office.

"Tabby cat," she said and watched the Gargoyle turn away to reveal the spiral staircase. She knocked on the door which opened to reveal the Headmistress sitting behind her desk despite the late hour. Hair bound in a net and her signature tartan dressing gown wrapped around her body, quill poised over a long roll of parchment, she greeted Hermione.

"Miss Granger. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Professor. That is to say, well - not really."

"Well? Come, my girl and take a seat. Whatever is the matter?"

Hermione took the seat in front of McGonagall's desk. She found the portrait of Dumbledore quickly but was disappointed to discover him asleep already. She looked back to see McGonagall had abandoned her quill and was instead waiting patiently for Hermione to explain her late-night visit. 

"It's Malfoy," Hermione sighed. 

"I see," McGonagall looked at Hermione over the bridge of her glasses. "What _specifically_ about him?"

"I'm concerned that something has happened," Hermione confessed. 

McGonagall sighed. She whipped her wand through the air and a teapot filled with boiling water appeared on her desk. She scooped several teaspoons of tea leaves into the water and left them to steep while she considered how best to have this conversation. "Something has happened to us all, Miss Granger. And some of us have experienced worse things than others, as you well know. You and Mr Malfoy are not in such different circumstances." 

"I... Yes, I know. That isn't exactly what I meant. Sometimes it's difficult to think of him as anything other than my enemy, but despite what he wishes me to believe, I know his heart wasn't in being on Voldemort's side. He was and is, I think, just a scared young man."

Minerva smiled at Hermione as she poured them each a cup of a strong Irish blend, proud of her student for seeing past her previous prejudices.

"What I meant was," she accepted the steaming cup of tea and added just a dash of milk, "I think something might have happened since we've returned to Hogwarts. He started off on a really good note, er, for _him_ anyway. He was participating in his classes and was believe it or not - actually excelling as a Head Boy. Things seemed to be turning around for him, but the last two months..." she hesitated, unsure how to describe it out loud. "Pardon my language, Professor - it's like he doesn't give a shit. He sleeps almost all of the time and is barely keeping his grades above an Acceptable. It's like he's given up and doesn't see anything positive in his future."

She took a long draught of the cooling tea and waited for McGonagall to say something. When she didn't, Hermione continued with a reluctant confession. "I've had to cover for him on three patrols now and have been filling in his paperwork so that everything got done."

"I see," McGonagall's lips thinned as she thought it over. "What exactly is it that you would like me to do, Miss Granger?"

"I... I don't know," she realised, slumping in her chair a little. "If he is having a hard time adjusting, I want to be reasonable but this feels almost like not having a partner at all and well, I was wondering why you asked him to fill the position in the first place?"

"I understand, Granger. Truly, I do. I believe, as you do, that there is some good in young Malfoy. I wanted to give him a chance to prove it and this year is my last opportunity to do so. Once he leaves Hogwarts I will be in no position to help him better himself. I must confess that I had hoped you would be a good influence on him as well. Having said that, I think I must remind him of our last conversation. Will you ask him to come and see me tomorrow? The time is of no difference, I will be cooped up in this office the whole day."

"Yes, Headmistress. I will tell him and I will drag him here kicking and screaming if I have to," Hermione stood and pushed her chair towards the desk. 

"I hope that won't be necessary," McGonagall smiled as Hermione walked towards the door. "Oh and Miss Granger? If you feel like he has given up on his future, might I suggest that you remind him that he has a good many things to look forward to?"

Hermione stopped with her hand on the door - _what?_ "I'm sorry, Professor. What do you mean?"

"Simply that he is young and can still create a bright future for himself if he is smart about it. I'm sure you'll think of something," she said. "Good night, Miss Granger." 

Dismissed, Hermione wandered back to the fifth floor with McGonagall's words playing over and over in her mind. _Remind him that he has a good many things to look forward to?_ Hermione wasn't convinced that McGonagall was suggesting something of the academic variety. _What the actual_ fuck _?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck With U - Ariane Grande ft Justin Bieber
> 
> Spotify Playlist now available Here Keep in mind that as the playlist is currently short, Spotify adds it's own suggestions. Honestly, I'm ok with that *shrugs* :)


	5. I Need You to Hate Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a big thank you to my beta [Missy J Anne85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyJAnne85/pseuds/MissyJAnne85) for telling me when I'm an idiot and when I'm not. I am so incredibly thankful to her for coming along and elevating this little fic. You can find her under the link and read some of her amazing work. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the gorgeous Amalia who made my day! You can find her artwork on Insta [here](https://www.instagram.com/the_no_peace/)
> 
> A teeny, tiny trigger warning for domestic violence. It's barely worth mentioning, but it's there.
> 
> Find the spotify playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=PUQ7DkA-Sw2o8z-PD6litg). Missy and I strongly recommend you listen to the chapter songs before, during or after reading the chapter. The song list can be found in the end notes.

By the time Hermione returned to the dormitory, Malfoy had long since disappeared. Whether he was in his bedroom or out stalking the halls as he often did, she wasn't sure. _And nor do I care,_ she told herself, stubbornly. She stomped her way up his staircase, not caring if she was waking him, incanted _'Flagrate'_ and hastily inscribed the message from McGonagall on his door. She enchanted the spell to show through on both sides, so he would have no excuse for not receiving the message, stomped her way back down the stairs and took herself to bed. 

Early the next morning, she woke to a loud banging on her door, punctuated by an angry-sounding "Granger!" With a groan, Hermione rolled over and trudged towards her door. Best to just get this over with, she thought as she threw the door open. Malfoy just about fell into her from the momentum but righted himself quickly enough. "Granger, what the actual fuck?" Malfoy started, but his next words caught in his throat as he took in her nightclothes and dishevelled appearance. 

The lavender silk and lace clung to her body in all of the right places and Draco could feel his words muddling themselves in his brain before they even had a chance to break out of his mouth. Her curls were wild and stuck out in all different ways. _She looks sex-mussed_ , he thought. Trying valiantly to divert his eyes from her lace-covered breasts, he garbled a few words before eventually spitting out. "I'll come back later," and turning his back on her.

Hermione stood there watching him struggle for what felt like at least thirty seconds. She considered putting him out of his misery and fetching a bathrobe but decided that this was far more fun. It was nice to see Malfoy at a loss for words, and if she was being honest, she didn't hate the way his eyes were skating over her body. As she watched him retreat further down the staircase, she gathered a blanket off of her nearby study stool and called out to him. "Malfoy, wait." 

Wait he did not. Instead, he seemed hell-bent on _not_ waiting. "Malfoy," she called again. This time he did stop in his tracks, but he didn't turn to face her. "It's alright, Malfoy. I'm all covered up," she taunted him in the same manner as he had that first day in the prefect's bathroom. 

When he turned around, she was relieved to see his signature smirk in place. He was wearing his Quidditch uniform, she noticed. She also noticed just how tightly it seemed to fit him these days. He quirked an eyebrow at her as he watched her watching him. Clearing her throat, she started again. "What is it I can help you with, Malfoy? It _was_ you who was pounding on my door not thirty seconds ago, was it not?"

Draco cleared his mind as best as possible. The use of the word 'pounding' along with her current state of undress was not helping him concentrate on remaining indignantly cross with her. "Yes," he drawled. "Did you _actually_ go and tell McGonagall on me?"

"I told you I would," she replied with a sniff. "If I am going to do this job on my own, then I would prefer to have everyone know about it. Or, potentially have a new Head Boy elected."

His eyes darkened as he watched her. "Do you have any idea what you have done?" He snarled at her, reminding himself not to be distracted by her legs.

"Oh come off it, Malfoy! McGonagall wasn't even pissed. She just wants to have a friendly chat. Honestly, you should be more worried about me," she told him, with her eyebrows raised. 

" _You_ ?" He scoffed. "What would I need to be afraid of _you_ for? What could you possibly do?"

"This seems to be pretty effective in getting you to shut up," she said, dropping the blanket from around her shoulders. Naturally, his eyes followed the blanket's fall and then lifted back to Hermione's face, somewhat slower. For a moment, he just stood there gaping at her. "Right, then. Now that that is established, I'm going back to bed. Do tell me how your meeting with McGonagall goes, won't you?" She bent very slowly to pick up her blanket, turned and sashayed back to her bedroom, making sure to add a little extra swing to her hips as she went. 

Draco watched her go, hardly daring to believe his eyes, yet feeling a delightful little twitch in his pants. _Just what does Granger think she's up to? Oh shit, she knows. She_ definitely _knows. I'll just have to turn this whole thing around._ He fled to his bedroom before she could turn and see the effect she was having on him. It would be hard enough to get her to believe he hated her as it was. He'd need to think of something and quickly, but not before he found a spare sock. 

Back in her bedroom, Hermione allowed herself a small giggle. She slapped a hand across her mouth to stop the sound from travelling. Sliding back under the still warm covers of her bed, she tossed and turned for a few minutes, unable to find rest or to wipe the ridiculous grin off of her face. Draco Malfoy might not like her right now, but he _certainly_ liked the way she looked. 

Before she could even think of it, her right hand had slipped beneath the lining of her panties. Biting her lip, she tried not to think of the person behind her sudden turn-on, but rather to focus on the sensations as her fingers slipped in and out of her folds and over her clit. 

No matter how hard she tried, the incredulous look on his face wouldn't leave her and before long her other hand had joined the first. Dragging two fingers from her left hand in and out while the fingers on her right hand were busy creating friction over the precious bundle of nerves just above. 

She came with a low keen and the image of Draco Malfoy pumping himself dry in the room just next door in her mind. When the stars in her vision cleared, she relaxed back against her pillows. _Shit_ , she thought. _Do I have a thing for Malfoy?_

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the prefect's office, going over the notes made by the prefects last night when he found her again. The door slammed open as he made his appearance, stalking to his desk, dropping into his chair, and beginning to look through the small pile of paperwork she had left for him in case he ever deigned to get back to work. 

She tried to hide the small smile forming on her face as he shuffled through the papers, scanning them like they were the dirt under his nails. While she might be able to hide her smile from him, she couldn't hide the sudden kaleidoscope of butterflies in her stomach from herself. This morning's orgasm had been an epiphany on why she had been so invested in seeing him become someone _good_. She wondered when it had begun for her, but couldn't put her finger on it, no matter how hard she tried. 

"Enjoying this are you, Granger? Don't think you can hide that little smirk from me. I am the _crowned_ fucking _prince_ of smirks. Do you know what your little conversation with McGonagall has accomplished? I am on probation," he snarled. ' _Probation_ for fuck's sake! And do you know what that entails? _Do you?_ " He asked, leaning towards her, hands clasped in his lap. 

"Enlighten me," she smiled suggestively. 

His heart nearly stopped, but he continued in his condescending tone. "We. You and I," he waved his hand through the air between them. "Have to work together. On _everything_ ," he hissed. Trying to hate her or even to _convince_ her that he hated her was going to be so much harder now. He'd have to be on his guard all-the-fucking-time. 

"I - what?" She stuttered, completely taken aback.

"That's right," he nodded. Watching the realisation dawn on her face, he forced a smug look on to his. "Your little conversation with the Headmistress has resulted in all our patrols becoming a joint effort. All of our reports need to be submitted together. You need to tutor me in all of our joint classes, which - need I remind you, are many! The only relief we will have from each other is when I am being tutored by someone else in the other classes. Oh and thank Merlin for Quidditch. I'll be requesting that we get more practices from now on, don't you worry about that. So tell me, Granger. Are you happy that you ratted me out? Because you can say goodbye to all of your free time because of it."

Hermione swallowed, absorbing the news. So this is what McGonagall had meant. She'd be spending a lot more time with Malfoy now and like she had said, she hoped Hermione would be a good influence on him and show him that there is a possibility of a bright future. _Well shit, it would have been hard before but now that I know I have a little crush... This could go very, very bad and end up backfiring._

"Ok, Malfoy. I admit it. This was most definitely not my plan and it's probably not going to be easy for either of us but - there could be a light at the end of the tunnel."

"Right," he scoffed. "And what would that be?"

"If we do this right, it could turn your life around. You might actually end up happy - one day."

Draco Malfoy sat back in his chair and he laughed. He laughed and laughed until it became a cackle and Hermione was crimson from her head to her toes. When he looked back at her, he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "Good one, Granger."

"Just _what_ is so funny?" She hissed.

"You say happiness exists and you think _I_ might get close to it. One day?" He was snickering again. "You always were a dreamer, Granger."

"You're keeping me in the dark on purpose, Malfoy but it won't be for long," she said.

Another chuckle and he replied "So you say I won't like it - but I've just gotta hold on. Maybe one day this will be worth it?" He hissed, shoving the contents off of his desk. Hermione watched the parchment and quills flutter down and the inkpots smash on the ground. The butterflies in her stomach erupted into chaos.

She stood quickly, waving her wand to vanish the mess when he hissed, "Leave it." He stalked the few steps over to her and stood with his face mere inches from hers. Hermione held her breath and her ground. The butterflies ceased all movement. She would not be backing down from Draco Malfoy, not today and not ever. "Happiness is not in my future, Granger. No matter what you do," he whispered harshly, covering her with goosebumps all over again. "I'm done with all this bullshit, the Russian roulette of chances. Don't you see that I'm all but lifeless?" He gripped her arms in a way that she was sure would leave bruises.

"You are _far_ from lifeless, Malfoy," she seethed, heart racing. She kept her eyes locked on his and did not attempt to release his grip on her body. She would show him no weaknesses. "What are you trying to prove?"

"Don't you get it?"

"No!" She snapped, frustrated.

"I need you to hate me, Granger, in the worst way! I need you to hate me, say it to my face and I'll let go!"

Adrenalin was pumping through her veins, her instincts screaming for fight or flight. 

"What? Why should I hate you? You - you saved me- us. How could I hate you?

"Saved you?" He spat, releasing her like she had burned him.

"Yes, you saved us all," she said, failing to resist the urge to rub her arms where he had held her. 

Staring down at her with his chest heaving, she could see the confusion etched all over his face. "You-" He licked his lips nervously. "You think I _saved_ you? I fucking damn near _condemned_ you! The number of things I could have said and done - _should_ have said and done - and I stood there and did nothing but stammer! Fucking stammer! Merlin, it haunts me every day!"

Hermione debated whether to step forward or to step backwards. Backwards, she decided, perching on her desk as she observed his episode. She gripped the table to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. When his rant was over, she watched the rise and fall of his chest for a moment before responding calmly. "Malfoy. Did you not hear the testimony all three of us gave in your trial?"

"That was on behalf of my mother, she was the only one who saved Potter," he scoffed.

"No, we gave Narcissa her _own_ testimony at her _own_ trial," she said. "We meant what we said about you. If you had identified Harry, we'd never have even had a chance. You could have named Harry, you knew it was him. Could clearly identify Ron and I and yet, you did nothing."

"Exactly," he seethed. "I did nothing!"

"And nothing was the perfect thing to do at the time. Anything more or less and we'd all have died."

"No Granger. This is not how things work. I _need_ you to hate me!"

"Why?" She slid off of the desk and moved towards him - slowly as if she was stalking her prey. Predictably, he backed up as he observed her progress until he had bumped into the wall containing the schedules. 

"Be-because," he stammered.

"Because why?" She asked again, lowering her lashes, she had nearly reached him now, but he moved swiftly and put his desk between them.

"Because it's easier that way. That's our normal. You and I hating each other. It's been successful for seven years, why ruin a good thing?

Giving up for now, Hermione returned to her desk, smoothing her skirt as she sat. "If you think that we can work and live this closely together, continuing to hate one another as we have in the past, and consider that to be a good thing; then we have more serious problems than I had initially thought. Like it or not, Malfoy, my days of hating you are done." 

Draco stared at her for a few minutes, contemplating his options. He considered returning to his old favourite insult, but couldn't bring himself to say the words. Instead, he opted for leaving the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Hermione felt no need to hide her smile this time, feeling more than victorious regardless of the fight they'd had and the bruises on her arms. A moment later the door crashed back open as Malfoy stormed back inside the room, collected the papers he'd been sorting through off of his desk and hurled the door shut again on his way out. As the door connected with its frame, Hermione allowed herself a small laugh. _This could be fun,_ she thought.

* * *

Hermione had kept her promise. She had succeeded in not hating him, no matter how hard he tried to make her. He alternated from snide to snarky, from dismissive to just plain old rude. Yet, she continued to chat _at_ him and engage him as best she could in lessons and prefect meetings. Was she a little discouraged? Yes. Was she ready to give up on him? No. Had her crush subsided? Definitely not. On the contrary, his desire to make him hate her had only made her want him more. 

One night while they were on patrol, Hermione was going on and on and _on_ about the new Transfiguration professor. How she really ought to tell McGonagall how hopeless he was, but couldn't bring herself to do it because every time he bored her to death, she got lost in those _super_ dreamy eyes. 

"For fucking Merlin's sake, Granger. Please shut up about bloody Michaels before I make you!" Draco spat, keeping up their brisk pace. Hermione, however, had come to a dead stop and it took Draco several steps before he realised. He spun to face her, sizing her up from head to toe. "What? Don't tell me I've finally done it? Managed to piss you off enough to be done with me?"

She lifted her chin defiantly and met his heated gaze. "How?"

"How what?"

"How would you make me shut up?" She clarified, eyes sparkling.

Truly off his guard at this point, yet not willing to show it, he sauntered over to her, placed a hand on the wall next to her head and leaned in closer. Using his height and breadth in an act of intimidation. 

Hermione stood her ground and stared up at him, daring him to do something, _anything_. "Well?" She prompted.

"Oh, Granger," he drawled. "There are _several_ ways I could shut you up," he added his signature smirk.

"Name one," Hermione countered.

Draco hesitated for a moment too long, giving Hermione the opening she needed. He was already attempting to invade her personal space, so she used his proximity to her advantage. She lithely wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down further, capturing his lips with hers. It was short, it was chaste and it wasn't nearly as sexy as she had hoped. Especially when he pushed her away, staggering several steps back. 

"What the fuck, Granger?" he cursed, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. His eyes darted from her shocked face to his hand and back again. 

"I - I'm sorry. I thought you might've wanted me to, but - but I see I was wrong. I'm sorry," she spun on her heel and set a brisk pace in the opposite direction. 

He slapped his hands against the wall in frustration. _I am going to regret this_ , he thought, feeling his body move before his brain could condone it. His long legs made far quicker strides than hers did and he was on her within a matter of moments. 

Catching her shoulders, he spun her, grabbed her waist, lifted her and pushed her against the wall, crashing his lips on top of hers. He swallowed her surprise and held her harder against the wall as she dropped her wand to tangle her hands in his hair. Their teeth clashed together as they fought their way through desire. Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him in closer. When her tongue traced the line of his lips, he opened his mouth for her, greedily inviting her in. When their tongues collided, Hermione felt electricity dance through every one of her nerves, her fingernails scraped over his skull in response. He hissed into her mouth and tangled his fingers in her jumper, clawing to find an inch of bare skin. 

Hermione, ever the stickler for dress code, had her shirt securely tucked into her pants and never had she been more frustrated with herself. She wanted him to rip her clothes to shreds, wanted to rip _his_ clothes to shreds and yet she could feel him retreating. For a moment, she considered not letting him go, already missing the heat his touch sent zinging through her body. 

His lips disengaged, but he held her fast against the wall, resting his forehead on hers. 

"This is a bad idea, Granger," he said with a slight shake. 

"Probably," she admitted. "But why are you trying so hard to fight it?"

He set her down and released his hold on her waist, the loss of contact hurt her more than she cared to admit.

"You've got a hold on me, Granger. It's like I'm one hundred feet tall, but I fall when I'm around you. You don't know it yet, but you've just opened a door that's begging you to slam it shut again."

"You can't know that," she whispered, reaching for him. "We have no idea where this can go." 

"Merlin, Granger. This - I - _we_ \- _can't happen._ " 

She shook her head violently, refusing to believe the words coming from his mouth. It was as if he'd lived their whole relationship in his head already and decided it _would_ never, _could_ never work. 

"I just want to be near you, Malfoy." She took his reluctant hand in hers. "Look, I've got my heart open and I'm telling you that I think this could work. Tell me I'm not crazy," she looked at him, eyes pleading.

"For fuck's sake," he used his free hand to rake through his hair. "All I have left is my pride and even then, it's only hanging on by a thread."

"I'm not asking for a lot," she said. "Just be honest with me."

He dropped her hand and was pacing back and forth. Hermione felt her hopes soar. She knew he was attracted to her, but what he was saying went far further than attraction. 

"Fuck. Sorry," he looked at her, turned and walked away, muttering something about puppets and strings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far: kudos & comments = love .... and I'd LOVE to hear from you!
> 
> I Need You to Hate Me - JC Stewart  
> Mercy - Shawn Mendes


	6. My Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a big thank you to my gorgeous beta, MissyJAnne85, you know I can't do it without you. I give you all my love!
> 
> My friends, things are heating up in this chapter ... If you know what I mean ;) Because of this, I wish to dedicate this chapter to the Queen of Smut. She always has some inspo at the ready & is ready and willing to cheer you on - especially if there is a BDD. If you don't know who I'm talking about, you should. She is the one, the only, the [raven_maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_maiden). I bow down to you, my Queen.
> 
> You guys know I have a Spotify playlist for this fic, but just in case you haven't already got it open, here is the [link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=UBe3p-ekR2iLszQCDDYJ1w). We STRONGLY recommend that you listen to the second listed song for today's chapter which can be found in the end comments. It will really help *get you in the mood* 
> 
> This chapter is the shortest yet, but I think you'll forgive me!

Hermione wasn't sure how long she had stood in the corridor after he had disappeared before she spun on her heel and continued with their patrol. He had spoken a lot of words that were not sitting well with her. _What_ had she ever done that would make him think she'd give up on him? Did he think that he wasn't deserving of love or a relationship? Did he think he had the _right_ to speak on her behalf without even _attempting_ to listen to what she felt, wanted, needed?

By the time she had returned to their dormitory, she was fuming. If Draco didn't want anything to do with her, then he should _not_ have damn well kissed her silly in the middle of the night. He should have let her walk away feeling foolish and ashamed and just let that be that. But no, he'd gone and kissed her senseless, leaving her lips tender to the touch, _strongly_ hinted that he was in love with her, told her he couldn't have anything to do with her and _then_ abandoned her in the middle of the castle and that just _would not do_. She was livid, and she intended to let him know that. Marching up his staircase, she threw his door open, making sure it crashed against the wall. He was in bed, but his reaction was so quick, she knew he hadn't been sleeping. He sat up like a bolt of lightning and had his wand trained on her before she could even locate him in the dark. 

"Granger?" He squinted at her. Like she was the last person he expected to see.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" she seethed, hands on her hips. "How dare you just leave me there like that. After saying all of those things," she flailed her hands through the air. "And then not give me a chance to say anything back!"

"Granger, there is no _need_ for you to say anything back. It was a mistake. We shouldn't have kissed again, and there is nothing for it except to forget and move on."

 _"Forget and move on?"_ She said incredulously. " _I'm sorry_ , but is it a regular occurrence for you to snog someone, confess some kind of feelings and then just pretend it never happened? Is it something you're _adept_ at doing, Malfoy? Because I am not!" She stamped her foot.

"Can this wait until the morning, Granger? I have practice tomorrow, and I really need to get some sleep," he said, rubbing his eyes. 

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hair-line. She exited his room, slamming his door behind her as loudly as she had when she had entered. She ran back down the stairs, through the common room and was at her door before she heard him call to her. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. Part of her was tempted to lock herself in her bedroom and give him a taste of his own medicine, but even as she considered it, she knew she wouldn't. It would have been childish. She was too desperate to hear what he had to say, and to have the chance to say something herself. Her feet carried her back down the stairs and into the common room. She shucked her shoes off and curled up on the lounge suite in front of the fireplace, and indicated for him to take the other end.

While she sat facing him, her arms clasped tight around the knees folded in front of her, he sat with his feet on the floor, legs spread and an arm resting on each as he stared into the fire. 

Hermione was desperately wishing that he had paused to put on a shirt before he had come downstairs. The green plaid pyjama pants he was wearing were doing nothing to stop her eyes from sweeping from his shoulders, over the planes of his collar bone, down his throat to his chest, and then she sucked in her breath, his abs. Oh, Morgana help her, his abs. She willed her eyes back to his face when he started to speak.

"We have to forget and move on," he said. "Because if we do it again, any wall I have built to keep you out of here," his long fingers danced an inch away from his chest. "Will have been for nothing."

"And that would be a bad thing, because?"

"Because like I told you months ago, anyone who spends large amounts of time with me winds up hating me. I'd rather you hated me from the beginning. It's - it's easier that way."

Hermione cocked her head to the side, considering him. He was wrong, she knew, but how to tell him that and make him _hear_ it? 

"I rather think it has worked in the opposite way concerning myself. I hated you for years while we kept a distance. Now we are forced together at every opportunity, and I can't get you out of my head, out of my space, and _I don't want to_ ," she hissed the words, and he looked up at her so quickly, he must have pulled a muscle. "Just what are you so afraid of, Malfoy?"

"You'll get sick of me. I'll suffocate you in the end. I'm too needy. I don't know any better, wasn't taught any better. And Granger, you're all sorts of wrong for me just as I am _every_ kind of wrong for you."

"Has Merlin come down from his tower and said that you get to decide things for me?"

"What? I - no, of course not," he stammered, eyes narrowing.

"Then do not presume to know what is best for me. What do I need to say, to _do_ to make you believe me? Do you think that I just decided tonight that I fancy you?" She scoffed. "It's been weeks, months, maybe longer. I don't know when it started, but I don't think it's going away any time soon. So could you just give a little? _Try_?"

"Granger, nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost. Do you think the stars align for us? Will your so-called Heaven step in? Save us from our sin? Will it?"

"Taking a chance? That's the price you pay," Hermione shrugged. "You leave behind your heart and cast away. Hoping and, yes, praying that it won't be for nothing. That you won't get hurt, but you'd rather be the hunter than the prey, wouldn't you, Malfoy?"

He chuckled in response to that. Of course, he'd rather be the hunter than the prey, wouldn't everyone? "You're a natural, Granger. A beating heart of stone-"

 _"Excuse me?"_ Hermione cut him off, indignant.

"You're giving me no fucking option. You've got to be cold to make it in this world," Draco gestured through the room. Hermione assumed he meant the Wizarding world at large. He _had_ been through a lot of ridicule in these last few months, she supposed.

 _"Giving you no option?"_ She hissed. "I am doing the opposite. Showing you that you have choices! That I am one of them!"

"No," he shook his head, a grimace on his face. "Now that I know you want me, too, you're taking my choices away. Now that I know I can have you, I don't know if I am strong enough to keep away. I'm not, I know I'm not."

"You're no exception, Malfoy. You're living your life cutthroat. You _do_ need to be cold to make it in that kind of world. Listen to me very carefully, Malfoy. I am inviting you into _my_ world. I want you." She dropped her hands from her legs and crawled over the couch to him. 

He watched her through wary eyes, and when she pushed him back against the sofa to straddle him, he hissed through his teeth. Whether in pleasure or pain, she wasn't sure. 

"Will you let me touch you?" She asked, fingers hovering over his skin.

"If I give into you, I know that I will never see my life in my hands again," he said, reluctantly placing his hands on her hips.

Hermione took that as an invitation and bit her lip in anticipation. She touched the shoulders she'd been admiring, running her index fingers along his collar bone.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I'm not here to love you and make you just feel sane." He dropped his hands down to her thighs, while her fingers found their way into the hair at the back of his neck. "If I try to love you, I know I won't stay sane... What's the use?" 

His words were barely more than a whisper, and if she hadn't been so close, she wouldn't have heard them. He was trying to talk himself out of doing all the things he wanted to, and while Hermione knew she should respect that, she couldn't bring herself to hold back. _She needed him_. 

She dragged her hands from his hair to run them down his back, digging her nails in as they ascended back up. His hands were making short work of untucking the shirt they'd had trouble with an hour earlier, and his fingers found the skin of her back that he so desperately craved. 

"My hands," he said. "My hands," he said again, more guttural this time, "weren't made to love you." He buried his face in her sweater-clad chest and breathed her in, his words muffled against the wool. 

Hermione was itching for him to do something more - she needed to feel more of him than what she could reach - but he needed to convince himself first so that there would be no regrets. She didn't want to push him more than she already was. He'd already ran from her once, and she couldn't let him do it again. 

"I've got no one else to run to, and this just feels right," he said quietly, his fingers tracing up her spine. Reaching her neck, he sat up and pulled her to him, searing kisses all over her face before finding her mouth and latching on as if he were in the desert and she was a mirage he could lose at any given moment. 

The heat of his kiss left her feeling parched, but she kept coming back for more. When she rocked her hips against his crotch, they both groaned loudly. Their kiss broke, and she yelped when he flipped them over, leaning over her on the soft sofa, his mouth finding a sensitive spot on her neck. He sucked harder, marking her with his mouth, she arched into him, trying desperately to catch her breath. She could feel how badly he wanted her, the length of him hard against her thigh, and she started to scramble to rid herself of her clothes. 

Hermione had her sweater up and over her head before she could think twice. Draco was watching her hungrily as she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, slipping over them in her need. She wanted him to see her as she was, as nervous as it made her. The look in his eyes spurred her on. She flung her white blouse to the side and was left only in her red lace bra and her school trousers. 

As he watched her, she ran her hands down her neck, over her breasts and down to the button of her pants. 

His eyes met hers as he grabbed her hands. "Are you sure?"

"I want you," she said simply, and then he was kissing her again. 

He broke away from her, his hand replacing hers on the band of her trousers. "Then let me take care of this."

Deftly, he undid the button and zipper, stripping her of her last remaining clothing in seconds. If she thought he had looked hungry when she took her shirt off, his expression upon seeing her matching thong was more akin to starving. 

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, drinking her in. She was just starting to squirm under the intensity of his gaze when he ducked back down and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. Then he was palming her tits as he dipped his head lower and lower, feathering light kisses down her chest, past her stomach and down to the lining of her knickers. Her breath hitched in her throat as hot and burning need swept through her stomach, settling in a pool between her thighs.

His hands had massaged her breasts right out of the cups of her bra, and he was making light work of her already hardened nipples.

"You make the most delicious noises," he told her, just before his teeth grazed against the string sitting low on her hip. 

She suddenly realised that the mewling she'd been distantly aware of was coming from her lips. As Draco slipped his fingers beneath the band of her knickers and began to pull them down, it hit home for Hermione of what they were about to do. She knew with absolute certainty that if she were to ask him to stop, he would. When had she started to trust him so emphatically? 

She writhed under his caress. "Ple- please, Malfoy. Touch me. Please," the words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. With her knickers around her ankles, he obliged and his tongue was on her, swirling around her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The sound he elicited from her mouth had her biting into her fist to keep from keening too loudly. There was very little in the way of things Hermione could grab hold of, so her fingers found their way back to his silken locks. She wove her fingers through his hair as he sucked, flicked and pressed on her clit until she was mewling his name, pressing his face to her pelvis. When the spasms hit her, he licked the cum straight from her cunt and nuzzled against her stomach, seemingly content to press kisses into her hip. 

Feeling rather boneless but not ready for the experience to be over, she released his hair and sought out his hands. Lacing her fingers through his, she attempted to pull him back up her mouth. When his face was once again parallel to hers, she kissed him with a fervour she didn't know she had. He paused, and she was simultaneously shocked and pleased to feel a smile on his lips. Opening her eyes, she met his gaze. 

"What?" she whispered, watching her breath lift the hair that fell into his eyes.

"Never in my wildest dreams," he broke off, shaking his head. "You are _fucking perfect_ , did you know that?"

She moaned in response and dragged him back down to her lips, letting her hand wander farther and farther down his body until she could slip her hand under the elastic of his pyjamas. A quick squeeze of his arse had him grinning against her lips again. Hermione slid her hand to the front of his body and released his cock from the flimsy constraint of cotton, his grin disappeared and was replaced by a sharp intake of breath. 

"Granger, I don't - we don't - fuck," he swore, as she flicked her thumb over the head, smearing his pre-cum as she went. 

"I want you inside of me, Malfoy," she smirked, as he pulled back to stare at her. She could feel his want for her, literally throbbing into her palm, but she didn't have the nerve to look down. The feel _-_ the size of it was making her slightly nervous. She could tell he was both longer and thicker than Ron, and although she wasn't entirely sure he would fit, she wouldn't let him see her hesitation. She stroked him lightly and watched his eyes grow darker, his cock jumping in her hand. 

"Fuck," he said again. "If I get inside you, I'll be done in two seconds flat."

"No, you won't," she coaxed, positioning him at the apex of her thighs. "You'll make me scream your name again first."

"Fucking Merlin's fucking pants," he growled as he eased inside her. 

Hermione groaned as he filled her. "Fuck me," she said, breathy. Both an oath and a request.

Draco watched her face with awe in his eyes. "With _fucking_ pleasure," he snarled, sinking deeper. 

When he bottomed out, Hermione resisted the urge to wriggle underneath him. Gods, he was huge. She held her breath, waiting for her body to adjust.

His breathing was harsh in her ear. When it lifted, he slipped his hands behind her back and pulled them back into a sitting position. Hermione couldn't help the gasp that escaped her as she sat impaled by him, feeling the extent of just how _full_ she was. 

"Do not _move_ ," he warned her, reaching around to properly unclasp her bra. It fell between their bodies, and Hermione quickly flung it to the side, resting her hands on his broad shoulders as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and worshipped her breast with his tongue. He held her close with one hand on her back, as the other dipped between her legs to find her clit. She could feel herself coiling tighter already as her hands tangled once more in his hair. 

He set a gruelling pace on her soft nub as he switched his mouth from nipple to nipple, nipping and laving and sucking. She knew she was grinding down on him, knew she was beginning to rock her hips back and forth, and knew just how damn right it all felt. 

"Oh gods," she cried out, as she felt the pressure build. "Malfoy, I'm, Merlin, I'm-" She shattered around him. He held her to him for two quick thrusts before slipping out just as he spilled onto their legs. She slid forward, mingling their juices as she clung to him, laughing.

They held each other tightly for several precious moments, collectively catching their breath. 

"We're going to need contraceptive potions," she grinned into his neck.

Draco chuckled in response.

* * *

They had spent the night locked in each other's embrace. They hadn't said another word to one another, content to just be, but it couldn't last forever. 

"Granger," Draco moved his arm out from under her head.

"Hmm?" 

"I need to get up. Quidditch practice," disentangling his legs from hers, he winced as their skin separated. "And we should probably get cleaned up."

The sudden removal of his warmth was what snapped her out of her pleasant dreams. It was the first good night's sleep she'd had in months, and it had been spent in his arms. The realisation was not lost on her. He was pulling his pyjama bottoms back on as she sleepily reached for his hand, pulling him down for a lingering kiss.

"Just how important is Quidditch practice, anyway?" She asked when he pulled back.

"I'd like to say not very, but I'm afraid they rather can't do without me, Granger. Plus, I'm the one who requested the extra training sessions, remember?"

With a harrumph, she fell back against the sofa. Draco's eyes tracked her body as she moved.

"Go back to sleep," he said, pulling the blanket back over her. "I'll be back before you know it and we can attempt the conversation that we didn't quite finish last night."

"If you wish," she sighed, nestling back into the sofa. Hearing Draco's footsteps carry him towards the bathroom, she cracked her eyes open, wide awake and a grin from ear to ear. 

_Holy shit,_ she thought. _I just had sex with Draco Malfoy, and it was bloody amazing. But what happens now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natural - Imagine Dragons  
> My Hands - Running Touch


	7. I Like the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Link text](url)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The patience MissyJAnne85 had with me on this one was 100, you guys! The time she put into the beta'ing was above and beyond. She made this chapter what it is. Thank you, my love! 
> 
> Another shout out to Amalia aka the_no_peace for the best comment ever on last weeks chapter! That was some dedication! P.S - no pressure to top it this week, as I'm not sure it's possible!
> 
> As always, I suggest that you listen to the chapter songs before or during the read, after is more than ok, too! You can find them on the A Losing Game spotify playlist right [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=KIKhYWLHSO-x_F3lkYIAPw) but if you don't want the spoiler they contain, the songs used are listed in the end notes.

It was a good thing; fantastic really that McGonagall had done what she had. It was well known throughout the school that Draco Malfoy had fucked up. That he was on probation and he was failing his classes, suddenly in need of a full-time tutor/ babysitter. It gave them the ultimate excuse to always be seen in each other's company, studying in the library, avoiding dormitory parties for joint patrols, skipping out on Hogsmeade weekends to get that Ancient Runes homework turned in. It was a fantastic way to get to know each other better, being in this little bubble. Even if he did tease her for singing along to the wireless. Or when he would lose his cool when she beat him to an answer - which happened frequently. When she’d been caught up in one thing or another, forgetting to get to breakfast in time, he would leave muffins and other baked goods lying around in plain sight. He was deliciously attentive and he was _hers_.

Mysteriously, not a single Prefect had questioned his ability to still get the Head Boy job done. Maybe they were glad to see him in good spirits, back at work and performing well. Maybe they just didn't want to get on his bad side. Draco neither knew nor cared. 

He and Hermione had decided that first morning to keep their relationship a secret. He had insisted upon it, actually.

"Granger, if word gets out that I got in your knickers - on multiple occasions, they'll ditch their wands and come after me with the pitchforks."

Hermione had rolled her eyes and countered. "Not with me by your side, they won't."

"They’ll admit you to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s and throw away the key.”

"They wouldn't dare!"

"They would! I can see Skeeter's headline already 'Golden Girl Falls from Grace: Sleeping with Death Eaters'."

She had rolled her eyes at him again, they were going to get stuck that way. She thought him ridiculous, apparently. "Fine, Malfoy. We will keep it a secret, _for now_. I don't know when I will change my mind, but you can count on it that I _will_. I will have the world know that you are a good man, despite what you wish to believe about yourself. One day and I hope it is soon, the world will know that you are good and you are _mine_." She had said, her eyes alight. 

"Granger," he had growled. Want, need, and desire coursing through him, he had scooped her into his lap and kissed her breathless.

That had been two weeks ago and so far, everything was going to plan. They sniped at each other in classes, while their hands brushed up against one another. They held Prefect meetings, each sitting behind their own desk, her eyes flitting to and from him of their own accord - and once the prefects were dismissed, the door was locked and they ripped each other's clothes to shreds. Sitting at a study table in the back of the library, glaring daggers while they played footsies under it. And every night, they fell asleep snuggled up in either his or her bed. Sometimes with their pyjamas still intact, but more often naked.

The time had come, Hermione decided. This was no longer a one, two, three-time thing. She was falling for Draco Malfoy in a way that left her dizzy and breathless. He was rude, arrogant, paranoid and as damaged as she was. He was also funny, smart, sincere and generous. After that first morning, she had drunk the last of her contraceptive potion. The potion only lasted for one month at a time and her time the clock was ticking. It was time to get out the potion kit and brew enough of the potion to last her for the foreseeable future. But she was missing two key ingredients. She'd have to ask Slughorn if she could borrow from his stores. 

* * *

Hermione sent Malfoy on his way to lunch and finished packing up their cauldron. She wrapped the delicate ingredients correctly and placed them back in the storeroom. When she returned, she was relieved to see that she was alone with the Professor.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Good work today! Mr Malfoy is really bouncing back in his studies. All thanks to you, I presume," he said jovially. His hands on his hips and stomach protruding. 

"Yes, thank you. It hasn't been easy, but we're getting there now," she smiled.

When she didn't immediately leave for the Great Hall, he looked at her, his expression odd. "Is there something else I can help you with, Granger?"

"Yes, sir," she hesitated. "I am in need of a few ingredients to stock up my personal stores, but I can't get to Hogsmeade any time soon. I was hoping I could borrow them from you in the meantime?"

"But of course, my girl. What did you need?"

"Stoneseed root and Thistle leaves?" She asked nervously, praying against the odds that he wouldn't make the connection. 

His eyes narrowed, and the spring in his step disappeared. Shit, he was on to her. She should have thrown a few other random ingredients in with her request. "I'm afraid I'm all out of both of those, Miss Granger. Both are used in a number of potions required by Madam Pomfrey, and I'm sorry to say that I used the last of them last night. I don't expect another shipment for two weeks. Britain is currently out of stock, it would seem.” Slughorn’s tone was very unfriendly.

Hermione was distinctly uncomfortable at Slughorn’s knowing, disappointed look. Her face was burning and there was a sticky lump in her throat. "Oh, ok. No problem. I guess I will just have to wait to fill my stores. Thank you anyway, Professor." She darted out of the room as quickly as she could. 

Face burning, she made her way to lunch. Hermione joined Ginny and Parvati at the Gryffindor table.

"It feels like forever since we last hung out," Ginny told Hermione with a pout.

"I know, I know. I've just been-"

"Busy," Ginny finished for her. " _We_ know."

"I'm sorry you guys, it's just been so hectic with classes, being Head Girl and now all this nonsense with Malfoy. Honestly, he's really very clever, and he doesn't need my help." She shrugged, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice and selecting a sandwich.

"Why won't McGonagall let you off the hook if he's back on track now?" Parvati shovelled some salad onto her fork.

"Maybe she's worried that if she does, it'll go back to how it was before?" Ginny answered her while Hermione bit into her lunch. 

"No idea. Maybe I'll ask her the next chance I get. Oh hi Luna, Padma."

The two Ravenclaw's were sliding into seats beside them. "We spotted girl-talk," Padma said with a grin.

"We thought it looked rather fun," Luna smiled, reaching for a glass of pumpkin juice. 

"I wouldn't say we were discussing anything exciting," Hermione said. "Just wondering when McGonagall will let me have some personal time again," she shrugged.

"In that case, does anyone want to join me for a walk down to the Forbidden Forest?" Padma asked. "I was hoping to find Firenze," she sighed.

"Count me in," Parvati jumped up to join her twin, discarding her unfinished lunch. 

"Tell him I say hello if you see him," Hermione called after them. 

"When do you think you will next have some free time, ‘Mione?" Ginny asked, returning to her first subject.

"Actually," Hermione popped the last of her sandwich in her mouth, chewed and swallowed before continuing. "Malfoy has Quidditch practice tonight. Do you guys want to come over?"

"I have plans with Neville," Luna said in her sing-song voice. "But I will ask him if we can postpone," she smiled.

Ginny fist pumped into the air. "Count me in," she grinned. 

* * *

The weather was atrocious that night, the wind howled, and the rain pounded the windows. Hermione shivered and conjured some warm drinks. “Ginny, Luna, tell me. How are things?”

“Things for me are great. School is ok, but I fucking _love_ being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. I’m telling you, ‘Mione - I’m gonna pursue Quidditch after Hogwarts. I can just feel it! McGonagall has even said that there are a few scouts coming out to watch some games this year. I’ve got this in the bag!” Ginny was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, and Harry is actually amazing at this long-distance thing!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Gin. You know I can’t do Quidditch for the life of me, but I’m so excited for you! Just don’t let the scouts coming mess with your performance. Just do your thing!” Hermione grinned, happy for her friend. “And Luna, tell me about how you and Neville got together! I can’t believe I don’t already know this!” She gushed, sitting down with the girls in the common room. 

"So. After the battle, he found me, and told me how much he liked me," Luna smiled, genuine and bright. "It took some time for me to realise I felt the same. I suppose I am always looking for things that are harder to see and find, and missing the things that are right under my nose," she shrugged.

"Oh, Luna. I am genuinely happy for you. You and Neville are wonderful together," Hermione gushed, sipping on her hot chocolate.

"Just wait 'til she tells you about the sex!" Ginny cackled.

Hermione's head swivelled back and forth between her two girlfriends. " _What_ about the sex?"

Luna's pale skin took on a very slight blush. "It's very good. Very, _very_ good," she admitted. 

"Do tell," Hermione encouraged her, a grin spreading across her face.

"What was that phrase again, Ginny?" 

The floodgates burst - Ginny could no longer contain her mirth. Laughing, she managed to say, "Kama Sutra," before the giggles took hold of her again.

Hermione stared at Ginny, shocked, before turning her gaze on Luna, the picture of serenity.

" _Neville?_ Are you sure?" Hermione asked, incredulous.

"Yes," Luna nodded. "He has this fascinating calendar. Three hundred and sixty-five days of different positions. Of course, we haven't had the opportunity to be intimate every day, but we just try a new one each time. He is much more flexible than you would imagine - the way he can bend his body." She sighed - happy, content, well-sexed. 

Ginny and Hermione shared an incredulous glance, but making eye contact had been a mistake. They burst into a round of giggles, both picturing Neville Longbottom bending in various ways. Luna watched her friends laugh, enjoying their girl time. 

“What’s your,” Ginny broke off in another giggle. “What’s been your favourite so far, Lu?”

“Oh!” Luna jumped up off of the sofa. “It's like this,” she lifted her leg as high in the air as she could. “And then Neville would come in and-” the way Luna bent her body next had Hermione rolling off of the lounge, clutching her stomach. The laughter was contagious, all three girls had sore stomachs and aching cheeks. 

Hermione was itching to tell her girlfriends about her own recent bedroom adventures but quickly bit her tongue before she could betray Malfoy's trust. Instead, she asked Luna, "What are you using as contraception?"

"Oh, we just use the charm every time," Luna said, non-plussed.

"But er, what if you're too caught up in the moment, and you forget?"

Luna looked at Hermione, blinking slowly as if that didn't make any sense to her. Ginny was just opening her mouth to say something when the portrait of Anne Boleyn above the fireplace came to life. "Head Mistress McGonagall is requesting an audience with Head Girl Hermione Granger."

"Yes, thank you, Anne. Let her in," Hermione said. The girls hustled to sit orderly on the couch beside one another as Minerva swept into the room.

"Ah, Miss Granger, good. I see you are enjoying your free time. I won't keep you longer than necessary."

"Is everything ok, Headmistress? Do we need to speak privately?" 

"No, no. What I have come here to tell you will probably benefit Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley, as well. Horace has brought to my attention that you requested some extra ingredients to help fill your personal stores. I have come to tell you that you have no need for contraceptive potions while you live in the castle."

Hermione's face turned crimson as Ginny fixed her with an impenetrable stare. Luna continued to listen to McGonagall without missing a beat. 

"I run a co-ed boarding school for teenagers, Miss Granger. Have you ever heard of pregnancy occurring within these walls? No? That's because there are contraceptives laced through almost everything you consume," she watched the three girls from over the rim of the glasses perched on her nose. "You girls needn't concern yourselves over unwanted pregnancies while you eat and drink at Hogwarts. Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies."

Over the cacophony of warning bells in her head, Hermione still managed to think - _Well, that is highly unethical._

McGonagall left the dormitory in stunned silence. Once she was gone, Ginny pounced.

"Why do _you_ need contraceptive potions, 'Mione?"

 _Ding, ding, ding,_ rang those damn warning bells.

While Hermione gaped, Luna responded. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? She's having sex."

Hermione swung her head to gape at Luna, instead.

"Hermione!" Ginny screeched. " _Who are you fucking_?" Her grin was wide, and she was bouncing in her seat. 

"I, er. Umm, that is. Ah, you see. Umm, what?" Hermione stammered. She didn't want to lie and avoid the direct question from her friend, but she also didn't want to divulge her secret, either. At least, not without running it by Malfoy first.

"Oh, didn't you know?" Luna asked. "It's Malfoy," she said, picking up her hot chocolate.

Hermione jumped to her feet and spun to face the two girls on the sofa. Her face was a brilliant red and her curls were frizzing with every run of her hand through her hair. "I - shit. Luna! How did -?" She couldn't even finish the sentence, her mind was reeling out of control. 

Ginny sprung from the couch and bowled Hermione over, tackling her to the ground, laughing as she rolled away. " _Malfoy?_ " She giggled. "With that body? That face? That arse - in those Quidditch pants! They really leave _nothing_ to the imagination, you know! Those looks he can sometimes throw your way that just get you _squirming._ Is he your own personal Adonis? You. Have. To. Tell. Us. Everything!"

"I'd really rather that she didn't," Draco said, stepping into the light. Water dripped off of him, and instead of looking like a drowned ferret, the wet clothes stuck to him, highlighting his muscular frame. His nose and cheeks were slightly pink, whether from the cold or anger, Hermione wasn't sure.

Luna watched him, expression unreadable while Ginny and Hermione scrambled up off of the floor. Ginny was grinning like the Cheshire Cat while Hermione looked at him, a deer in headlights.

"Malfoy,” Hermione licked her lips nervously. “I thought you had practice?"

"Cancelled due to bad weather. A word, Granger? My room in one minute," he commanded. Hermione felt an indignant charge of anger at his demand, yet at the same time, it created a rush of moisture between her legs. 

He manoeuvred around the three dumbstruck women and up to his bedroom without a second glance.

"Is that how he normally talks to you?" Ginny asked, suddenly concerned. 

"No," Hermione shook her head, squeezing her legs together. "He never speaks to me like that. We had agreed to keep this a secret. I - he is probably very angry. I- I think I'd better go and just talk to him."

"Should we leave?" Luna asked, getting to her feet. 

"No," Hermione said firmly. "We are enjoying our girls' night. I won't be long," she promised. 

She took the stairs to his room two at a time, knocked once on his door and entered without waiting for permission. He was pacing back and forth, broom discarded but Quidditch uniform still clinging to him.

"Malfoy, you should get changed. Or at least dry yourself off. You'll catch your death," she said, leaning against his door. She was unwilling to cut into the path he was making in front of his bed.

He looked up at her sharply, eyes dark, and pulled the jumper off and over his head, tossing it into a dark corner of the room. "How much do they know?" He asked, his tone was less angry than she had anticipated. 

"I didn't tell them anything," she said softly. "McGonagall came and-" 

"I met her at the door, she was grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't work out why until I came into the room after her."

Relief flooded through Hermione like a river after a storm. She shook her head, curls flying. If he'd come in straight after McGonagall had left, then he'd know she was just as surprised as he was. It would also explain how he had come in without her noticing.

"I know you didn't tell them anything. I stepped in before your Gryffindor loyalty would have you saying something that you shouldn't. But I don't know them as you do," he stalked towards her. 

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as he placed his hands on the door on either side of her head, towering over her. "How much do they know?" He asked again. "Who will they tell? Potter? Weaselbee? Longbottom? The whole school?" 

Hermione placed her hands on his bare shoulders, willing some warmth into them. "You can trust them," she whispered, setting a warm kiss on his cold chest. He dropped his hands from the door at her touch. Hermione ran a finger down his fading dark mark and laced her fingers with his. "They won't say a word for as long as we want this to be secret," she promised him. His hands dropped to her side, and he released a pent-up breath. He pulled her in, soaking her jeans with his wet breeches.

"Good," he said, grazing her neck with his teeth. Hermione shivered and it wasn't from the cold. "Because I really like you, Granger, and I'd hate for this to be ruined."

"You really like me?" She repeated. She had known this, of course, but it was heady to hear it said so plainly. Her body betrayed her, responding to his like a magnet, following his every step. "What do you _really_ like about me?"

He stepped away from her and started to remove the last of his soaked garments, agonizingly slow. "I like the way you look at me with those beautiful eyes."

Hermione felt her heart skitter and stop, and start again, and her eyes dilated as desire coiled deep inside her.

"I like the way you act so surprised," he smirked, she hummed in pleasure as his eyes raked over her body. "I like the way you sing along.” She swallowed hard, she was going to pass out. 

“I like the way you _never_ get it wrong."

That was it, she'd stopped breathing, she was sure of it. His shoes and socks had been discarded, and he was standing, slowly rolling the sodden pants down his hips, revealing the deep V leading to -

"I like the way you shake your hair, and I like the way you like to touch." He was bent in half, removing his pants from his ankles, boxer shorts along with them, and as he stood back up, Hermione couldn't help but notice there was one large part of him no longer cold. His blood had rushed to one of his organs, currently very hard and demanding her attention.

He grinned. "I like the way you stare so much, but most of all -"

"Yes?" Hermione panted, dragging her eyes up to his as he stalked towards her.

"Most of all, I like the way you move." He captured her lips in his and kissed her until the breath left her lungs, and her fingers were clawing their way down his back. He pulled away from her and whispered in her ear. "Go and tell your friends that you need to call it a night."

Hermione gulped, smoothed her hair down, and attempted to calmly make her way back to the common room. Ginny and Luna were already on their way out as Hermione called for them to wait.

"We most definitely were not listening at the door," Luna said as she and Ginny made a hasty exit. The grin on Ginny’s face was pure evil delight, as was the wink she threw her.

“Have fun,” Ginny mouthed, disappearing through the entry.

Hermione was utterly embarrassed but couldn't help the huff of laughter that rose up through her throat. "Goodnight," she called.

Luna stuck her head back around the corner. “I think you will have a very good night, Hermione!” She said with a grin.

Laughing, Hermione shook her head, curls dancing and hurried back up to Draco's bedroom. 

* * *

The next morning when Hermione woke, Draco was already getting dressed. 

"So, I was thinking," she started.

"Not unusual for you," he smirked.

"Now that Ginny and Luna know," she continued, ignoring his comment. "Maybe you'd like to tell someone, too? They reacted so well. I'm really not sure what you're so worried about. Maybe this could be us kind of testing the waters?" She suggested, tentatively.

His eyes narrowed in on her as he pulled on his shoes. "Granger, we are not going public. It's too dangerous, and I won't damage your reputation that way."

Hermione scoffed and fell back into the pillows, making no attempt to cover her naked chest. "Why can't you see that _that_ is my decision to make?"

"I'm just trying to protect you," he gave her a withering stare, pulling his Slytherin robe off of a hanger and shrugging into it. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and slipped out of bed. The sudden drop in temperature sent shivers down her body and hardened her nipples. She was still completely naked, and she wanted to use it to her advantage. She let him get a good look at her as she approached. He watched her, eyes wary.

"I know what you're doing, Granger," he warned.

"Do you?" Reaching him, she slipped her arms up and around his neck, bringing him down to meet her in a kiss. "Is it working?"

He groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping up and down the bare skin of her body. He pulled away from her and threw her some of the fresh undergarments she kept in his room. "Not one little bit," he said.

"Oh come _on_ , Malfoy. There has to be someone you want to share this with?"

"I want to share it with you," he said, a warning in his tone. "And not anyone else."

She was pulling on her underwear quickly, suddenly aware that Malfoy was not early, but that she was late. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?" She complained, searching for a uniform. "Just promise me that if the topic _somehow_ comes up with _someone_ you trust, you'll say something."

"Because I like watching you sleep. You're adorable when you snore, and that is an easy promise to make, Granger. The topic won't come up, and you’re the only one I trust," he kissed her quickly on the cheek and left for breakfast before she could get another word in. 

_Smarmy git_ , she thought. 

* * *

As it happened, Draco regretted making that promise. Three days later, Theodore Nott cornered him after a Quidditch game. 

"Malfoy," he called. "Haven't caught up with you in ages. Don't tell me you're actually keeping up with this Head Boy business?"

"Nott," Draco grunted by way of response. "It keeps Granger and McGonagall off my back so, yeah, I guess I am," he shrugged, shouldering his broom. It had been a while since he'd interacted with anyone he used to call a friend. Probably since Granger's party, if he thought about it. 

"Ah yes, Granger," Theo grinned at him. "How's it going with her?"

Draco watched the fellow Slytherin closely, searching for a sign of what he might know. "What are you talking about?" He asked haughtily.

Theo chuckled. "Come off it, Malfoy. Anyone who dares to pay attention knows that you've had a massive thing for her since forever."

"I have not," Draco protested vehemently. 

Theo looked at him for a moment before breaking out into a grin. "I know you way too well, Malfoy. You have been pining after that witch since the fourth year. Now you're living with her. I'll swear whatever you want to tell me to secrecy!"

"Did she put you up to this?" He knew the words were a mistake as he watched Theo's eyes widen.

"Firewhisky. Slytherin common room. Twenty minutes," Theo hissed at him. 

"No," Draco shook his head, grabbing Nott by the sleeve of his robes before he got too far away. "My dorm. Too many prying eyes and ears in Slytherin."

"That's how we get ahead in life, Malfoy," Theo reminded him. "Fine, I'll concede. I'll meet you in twenty minutes."

With a sigh, Draco made his way back through the castle and up to the fifth floor. The moment he made it through the portrait hole and dropped his broom carelessly to the ground, Hermione pounced on him. Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, he cupped her arse and held her to him.

"You did it," she grinned at him between the kisses she rained on his face. "You caught the snitch and won the game!"

"How would you know?" He asked, setting her down. "You weren't there. I scanned the crowd for you almost as much as I scanned the sky for the snitch," he sulked.

"Then you should have scanned harder," she retorted, hands on her hips. "I was watching from under the stands. I didn't think you'd want anyone to see me wearing this," she indicated to the Slytherin scarf wrapped around her neck. Draco wrapped the scarf more tightly around her. Granger, _his_ Granger in green and silver was doing unexpected things to his nervous system. 

"And you'd be right about that. Next time, don't wear it and sit in the stands where I can see you," Draco pulled Hermione back to him. "But right now you need to find somewhere else to be. Nott is on his way here, and I'm going to make good on my promise to you," he lifted his eyebrows, watching as the realisation dawned on her.

"You're going to tell him about us?" She said over the breath she held in her throat.

"I sort of already did, just not in as many words. Don't you have some homework to do? Prefects to annoy? Friends to visit with?"

"I'll stay in my room, and you won't even know I'm here," she squealed, pecked him on the cheek and dashed up her staircase just as Anne Boleyn announced a visitor. 

Theo waltzed into the room, tossing a bottle of Firewhisky from one hand to the other, whistling under his breath. "So this is how the other half lives. I almost didn't recognise it without all the party decorations."

Draco sat in an armchair and gestured for Theo to take any seat he wished. After pretending to sit on Draco's lap, and Draco hastily pushing him off, Theo moved to the other armchair with a chuckle. He presented Draco with the bottle of liquor. "Officially to congratulate you on your spectacular win, but more to get you drunk and get as much detail from you as possible," he warned with a smirk.

Draco glared daggers at him but conjured two glasses nonetheless. "Let's just ease into it, shall we?"

When half the bottle was gone, and Draco could no longer remember why he'd been distancing himself from his friends, the real conversation began.

"So. Tell me what's happening with Granger," Theo said, wavering slightly in his seat. 

Draco slumped back against the cushions. "I don't know where to begin," he confessed. "Sometimes I think I'm still dreaming."

"Tell me about her - the _real_ her - not all that ‘Golden Girl’ shit everyone’s always on about,” Theo sloshed his drink down the side of the chair. Draco couldn't bring himself to care.

"She's something to behold, Nott. She's elegant and bold like you wouldn't fucking believe."

Theo chuckled. “Gryffin-bloody-dor,” he said, watching the liquid in his glass swish back and forth. 

"She's fucking pure, undiluted magic, running through my soul."

Even in his inebriated state, Theo sat up straighter in his chair to listen.

"Her eyes, even with all the shit she's been through; they're innocent and wild. They remind me of what life could be like. I feel like I'm losing my mind - the way she kisses me, I - she ignites me," he shrugged like it was no big deal. "Every time I start to feel cold, she pulls me back into those flames, easing the chill from my bones each and every time she touches me."

Draco's words had Theo forgetting the drink he already held. The tone of Draco’s voice had him sobering up, and the look on Draco’s face had him screwing the lid back off of the bottle and pouring them both some more. 

"Shit, Malfoy. You're fucked. Well and truly _fucked_ ," he said, raising his glass in mock salute.

"Tell me something I don't know," Draco confirmed with a sigh, lifting the tumbler to his lips. 

A single tear slid down her cheek and into her ridiculously large grin. She had only come to check on them, make sure they were both still conscious. Instead, she had stumbled into a most delicate part of their conversation. Hermione turned and silently made her way back up to her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Like the Way - Bodyrockers  
> Georgia - Vance Joy


	8. Break My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a big thank you to my gorgeous beta, MissyJAnne85. Honestly guys, she ripped me a new one with this chapter. I wasn't feeling it with the first draft, but she swooped in, tore it to shreds, made me work for it & now it's a thousand times better because of her. Thank you SO much, my love!
> 
> We will see some more smut & angst in this chapter, but no real trigger warnings that I can think of. If you see something that I'm not aware of, PLEASE let me know! This is not my area of expertise, so I apologise if anything is triggering for you.
> 
> As always, you can find the Spotify playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=Et2tgf2OT0eHVlIs_7wJ2g) updated with this weeks songs. Songs are credited in the end notes.

To say that Hermione was happy with her new routine would be an understatement. She felt fulfilled in every aspect of her life. She was happy, and alive, and _cared_ for. Draco really was a most gracious lover, always making sure she was comfortable and enjoying herself. If you had told Hermione two years ago that she would be falling in love with Draco Malfoy, she'd have laughed you out of the room. Now, however, she couldn't believe that she'd never even noticed him before - past transgressions aside. 

Ginny and Luna had been unbelievably supportive of the idea, which was sort of a surprise to Hermione - if she was honest. She supposed that other than in her first year, Draco had never really been outwardly nasty to Ginny. Also, there was the fact that Ginny found him outrageously attractive. That seemed to account for more than it probably should, although Hermione did not disagree. Luna, on the other hand, was a little more mysterious. Perhaps he had been kind to her while she was locked away in the Malfoy dungeons. She would have to ask Luna, there was no way Draco would admit to any such goodness - convinced as he was that he was the opposite. Hermione could hardly believe her luck at having two such incredible friends. 

However, Christmas was fast approaching, and Harry's invitation to spend the holidays back at Grimmauld Place was haunting her. Had she moved on from Ron? The answer was a resounding 'yes'. In actual fact, she was no longer sure that she had ever been truly in love with him in the first place. She had thought herself in love with him at the time, and her feelings had been genuine. Ron had been a wonderful first love, but she knew now that it wasn’t true love. The magnetism she felt whenever she was around Draco, how her senses would come alive, how she could let herself drift when she was with him - she didn’t always need to be switched on, alert. She could be comfortable in his presence. If this was how she felt about Draco after such a short time together... Well. She knew that what she had with Ron could not compare to her feelings for Draco. 

Was she ready to forgive Ron? Well, that was an entirely different question and one she wasn't sure how to answer. Perhaps she could spend the holiday break with her parents, tell them about her new boyfriend, show them how happy she was. Maybe the three of them could join Harry and the Weasley's at Grimmauld Place for Christmas Day. That would be a nice compromise. She would write to Harry and suggest it before broaching it with her parents. She'd have to figure out a way to keep her parents from asking anyone about Draco, but that was no matter. She'd think of something, she always did.

They were in her bedroom this morning, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how normal it felt to wake up beside him every day. To snuggle into his warmth and run her fingers over the abs she still couldn't take her eyes off of. To feel him twitch beneath her, next to her, into her side as he slowly woke. It had been intoxicating in its familiarity. 

She was going to miss him when they went their separate ways during the holidays, but today it was Saturday, and they didn't have anywhere they needed to be for a while. She could snuggle for a little longer. 

Hermione dozed off and woke up an hour later to an empty bed, the sheets still warm where Draco had been. She rolled out of bed, slipped her bathrobe on, and padded downstairs to find him. Rather than climbing his stairs, she stood in the common room, and raised her wand, incanting _"Homenum Revelio"._ When nothing happened, she widened her search to the Prefect's Bathroom.

She found him sitting on the edge of the giant bath, playing with the scent nozzles while it filled. "Good morning," she smiled at him as she made her way across the tiles. 

"Morning, Granger. Should I add some jasmine to the vetiver?"

"Mmm," she sighed, happily. "Yes, please." 

_Vetiver,_ she thought. So _that_ was the other scent she associated with Draco. Now that she had her answer, images of forests in the dead of summer and old leather-bound books sprang to mind. It was the final puzzle piece, her Amortentia scent profile now complete. She didn’t need to brew the potion to know it for sure, she could feel it within her very soul. The two scents mixed and rose with the steam from the hot water. It was delicious and heady, intoxicating in its perfection. 

The bath was filling quickly now, and he pulled his legs out from the side and started to undress. Even though Hermione had seen him naked countless times already, there was something so much more _intimate_ about baring your body to someone when there was no sexual agenda. _Domestic_ , that was the word for it, she decided as she too shucked off her pyjamas. 

Draco took a running start and dived gracefully into the water. Hermione rolled her eyes. He was still such a show-off sometimes. She sat on the edge of the bath and lowered herself down into the warm suds. The mix of their two scents comforted her in a way that she didn't know she needed. She swam through the water until she came to the shampoo station and washed her hair, watching Draco make laps of the pool. He was a very good swimmer, which shouldn't surprise her. He was lithe, quick and toned. Athleticism came naturally to him, it would seem. 

She continued to watch him while she washed her hair, her thoughts running in a hundred different directions. He disappeared under the water for a few moments and popped back up - right in front of her. "Oh," Hermione said, startled. 

"What are you thinking about, Granger? You're a hundred miles away," He said, pumping the nozzle for the shampoo of his choice. Hermione watched the suds drip from his hair, over his shoulders and down his chest. 

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?" He asked again, a wry smile on his face.

"Oh, erm. Let me see. Our last charms class, when I can next get to the library, and what lunch will be served today."

"Anything else?" He quirked an eyebrow. This was something that had recently started to grow on her - rather rapidly in fact.

"No, nothing else comes immediately to mind," she said, a coy grin on her face. She turned away from him to her favourite soap dispenser, lathered it and ran her hands over each arm and then her breasts. 

Draco watched her cover her body with suds, his eyes growing dark. He was particularly interested in following the soapy track running between her tits and down just a little further, where the water caught it. Abruptly, she ducked her head under the water and swam over to the stairs. Sitting on the second from the top, Hermione beckoned to him. He swam over to her without a second’s hesitation. Draco reached the stairs and came to a stop as she dipped her hand under the water, inserted a finger between her folds, brought it up to her mouth and sucked on it. "I'm a sucker for you," she said, lowering her eyelashes flirtatiously. 

Draco growled as he pulled her to him, and attached his mouth to her throat. With one hand holding her to him, he used the other to palm her breast. She redirected his hand to her face, took his index and middle fingers into her mouth, and sucked on them. Hard. Draco jerked against her and immediately released his hold on her neck. "Morgana, I'm feeling heat in December when you're around me," Hermione whispered into his ear. 

"Fuck me," he snarled.

"I intend to," she lowered her eyes and her voice. Feeling his cock jump against her stomach, she cupped his balls with one hand and stroked his long, thick length with the other. "How would you like me, Mr Malfoy?" She fluttered her eyelashes innocently at him. 

"Exactly as you are, and not any other way," he said before meeting her lips with his. 

Hermione had a brief moment to be surprised by the loving comment, before the heat of his kiss burned through her, distracting all other thoughts but her need for him. 

He climbed the stairs and hoisted her out of the bath like she weighed nothing, setting her naked arse on the cold tiles. Her protest was lost in her throat when he spread her legs wide, held them apart, and darted his head in between her thighs. Suddenly the cool tiles were welcome as she dug her hands into his hair and held him to her. 

Hermione’s nerves were coming alive. Draco was slowly licking his way around her, and then speeding up, only to slow down and blow lungfuls of cool air over the most sensitive of areas. He seemed to take great pleasure in having her writhe beneath him, digging her nails into his scalp in a way that should have been painful. The feel of his grin and the gentle scrape of his teeth against her clit had her almost coming undone, pressure building delightfully inside her.

"Draco, I'm going to -" _Not come_ , she finished in her head. He'd pulled his face away from her throbbing, needy and dripping core. He was staring up at her. Her hands were still fisted in his hair as she watched his face flicker through his changing emotions. "What is it?" She asked, the fire in her veins dying.

"You called me 'Draco'," he said, voice hoarse.

"It's your name," she said, cocking her head to the side.

"Yes, but-" he didn't finish his sentence, just pulled her back into the warm water, to the left side of the stairs. He braced her against the side of the bath. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her like he was a dying man, and her lips were the fountain of life. Eventually, he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. "Granger, I -"

"Yes?"

"I- you're the fucking potion and the pain. A tattoo inside my bleeding brain," he said, shaking his head. 

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted him to keep talking. She had a feeling that he was about to say something very, very important. But he was gripping her tightly and slipping inside her. Slowly filling her with all that he wouldn't say. She wondered when - or if - her body would ever be used to him. If she would ever adjust to him immediately without the deliciously painful stretch. Even with those thoughts in her head, she was lost to the feeling of all-encompassing pleasure as he finally bottomed out, filling her completely.

Draco's thrusts were slow, deep, and the push and pull on her centre was potently heady. The water lapped around them as they moved in sync with one another. With her back against the wall, he still clung to her like she was a lifeboat in the middle of a stormy sea. Hermione ran soothing strokes through his hair as she cradled his head to her chest. This wasn't _just_ sex and fucking anymore. This was making love, and even if he wouldn't say the words yet, she could feel them. 

His breathing became erratic, and his drive less rhythmic. Ravaging her faster and creating more friction for Hermione's sex to cling to, her body coiling tighter as he pounded harder still, pulling her body down to meet each thrust. Just as she reached climax and clenched around him, Draco stuttered to a stop, plunging once, twice more into her, and loosening his grip on her shoulders, but keeping her clamped tightly to him. 

Breathlessly, she whispered in his ear, "I'm a sucker for all the subliminal things no one knows about you," she attempted a smirk, watching him come down from the high when he gently pulled away. "You're making me break all of my typical rules. Only a few short months ago, I swore I'd never share bathwater with you and now look at me." She shook her head slowly, a smile spreading across her face. "Wonders will never cease."

Draco watched her for a moment, freshly fucked and full of him. Wet hair and a sexy grin. _All mine_ , he thought, bringing her in for another kiss.

* * *

Deliciously sore, Hermione slid in between Pavarti and Ginny at the Gryffindor table, halfway through the lunch hour. 

"You look happy, Hermione!" Pavarti said as she watched Hermione scoop some mashed potatoes and beef stew into her bowl. She was ravenous. 

Hermione tried and failed to wipe the grin off of her face.

"Yeah, Hermione," Ginny beamed, knowingly. "Very _happy_. Had a _good_ morning, have you?"

"Just a _really good_ sleep in," Hermione responded, eyes dancing. 

Parvati looked from Ginny to Hermione, and back again with a shrug, accepting their personal joke for what it was. 

"What are your plans for the holidays, Hermione?" Parvati asked her.

"I'm not actually sure, yet," Hermione said, her smile faltering. "Harry wants me to come and stay, but Ron lives with him, and well, I haven't quite forgiven him, you see. What about you, Parvati?"

"We're planning a family trip back to India to see all of our extended family. It's very exciting, actually. We haven't been since we were kids!"

"That's amazing, Parvati! I hope you'll have a fantastic time. You will have to write and tell us all about it! I'm absolutely fascinated with India and its culture! What about you, Ginny? What are you going to do?" Hermione turned to face her.

"I was hoping to spend most of the holidays with Harry, but it'll be a fair bit harder to get away with if you're not there as well. I'm actually starting to consider telling mum and dad the truth. You know, sitting them down over a cuppa. "Dad, Mum," Ginny turned to look at Parvati and Hermione in kind as if she were talking to her parents. "You know Harry and I have been together for a while now, yes? Well, you see, we've had sex several times, and well, I'd like to keep on having it. The sex, that is. Orgasms are pure bliss. Why didn't you ever tell me that's why I have so many brothers? Anyway, staying at home over the holidays would kind of get in the way of my plans to get laid. Savvy?" Hermione spat her drink out onto the table and laughed. Parvati took the matter slightly more seriously. 

"Harry Potter? Sex? With my little girl? Took your virginity, did he? I'll kill him! I don't care if he saved the world, I'll kill him!" Parvati managed to mimic Arthur Weasley very well for someone with precious few interactions with the man under her belt. 

With a grin on her face, Ginny responded. "You can't kill him, Dad! They'll throw you in Azkaban!"

"Don't you try and stop me!" Parvati slammed her hands on the table and stood abruptly. All three girls collapsed into peals of laughter. Wiping the moisture from her eyes, Hermione turned to Ginny and said, "Good luck with that!"

* * *

Returning to the dormitory, Hermione found Draco lounging on their favourite sofa, a tumbler of Firewhisky in one hand and a thick, white roll of parchment in the other. A small fire was burning in the fireplace, the wireless was on, and he was watching her with a curious look in his eye.

"What is it?" She asked, walking towards him. 

He shook his head by way of response and patted the cushion next to him, indicating for her to take a seat. Once she was settled in, close to his side, he handed her the white scroll.

"I have been instructed to hand-deliver this to you," he said with a wince. It was thick, velvety, trimmed in gold leaf, and very expensive. The black ribbon that held it together disappeared when she touched it, little red sparks sizzling through the air in its place. Hermione looked up at Draco apprehensively as she unrolled it. The parchment shimmered in red and a thick black, elegant script depicted an invitation.

_Dear Miss Hermione Jean Granger,_

_Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco Malfoy_

_Request the pleasure of your company_

_At their annual Black, White and Red New Years Eve Gala_

_Friday the 31st of December 1999_

_From 8 o'clock in the evening_

_At the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire_

_Formal attire in black, white or red is required_

_We look forward to the pleasure of your company_

Hermione read the invitation, looked up at Draco, and then back to the invitation. "You're having a party, and you're inviting me?" She asked, nervously. Had he told his mother about them? Is that why she was holding the elaborate invitation in her Muggle-born hand?

"My _mother_ is having a party. She just likes to put my name on the invitations. You'll notice that my father's name is mysteriously absent. Not that anyone cares about him, anyway" Draco drawled.

"But - she's invited me. Why?"

"I believe she has invited almost everyone who has good standing in our community. Potter and the Weasels, too. Most definitely Potter. We have thrown this party almost every damn year. Apparently, it’s a Malfoy _tradition_ now. Maybe this year, I'll actually have something to look forward to - if you agree to come, that is." He raised his left eyebrow, sending a swoop of desire through her. Damn, he was sexy. 

Hermione wasn't sure what to think. The invitation was from Narcissa, who apparently wanted to be seen doing the right thing. The invitation was _not_ from Draco. Yet, he was telling her that he'd like her to attend.

"As," she licked her lips apprehensively. "As your date?"

"Perhaps as my _unofficial_ date. You would know it, I would know it. She-Weasel could know it if you like, but it would have to stop there, Granger. No one else could know, or suspect it. My mother may have invited upstanding citizens, but you can bet your last Galleon that there will be less than desirable guests, also. My father’s influence and money still fill pockets. There are wizards and witches you’d never guess at being corrupt. That is a hazard of being a Malfoy and associated with my father."

"Oh," she replied quietly. She was disappointed even though she had tried not to get her hopes up. Draco set aside his Firewhisky and pulled her onto his lap. 

"I'm sorry, Hermione. That is just how it has to be. Hopefully not forever, but it is for now."

The rush of blood to her head was dizzying. He'd just called her by her first name! She suddenly understood his reaction that morning when she had said his. It was inebriating. She sucked in a deep breath. "Say it again!" 

When she looked at his face, his eyes were a dance of solid silver, and his grin was genuine. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Say it again," she pleaded, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

He leaned in close to her. "Hermione," he whispered, breath tickling her ear. He nuzzled at her neck, and she was nearly lost in the sensation of it. The combination with the lust he evoked by simply saying her name, but she pulled herself away. She wasn't finished talking just yet. 

"You say my name like I've never heard before. I'm rarely indecisive, but this time I know for sure," she raked her hands through her curls and pushed up from the sofa. He watched her curiously as she stood to address him. "Merlin, Malfoy!” She could feel her vulnerability building, her defence mechanisms sliding into place - a symptom of being scared. “Tell me I'm not alone in this. Tell me I'm not the only one feeling it all." Her eyes were glistening with sudden emotion. Despite what she had thought just that morning, she needed to say it and to hear him say it. Keeping their relationship a secret was fun in one way, but painful in others. She needed assurance. 

His eyes stopped dancing and narrowed in on hers. "Granger - Hermione. You're always at the centre of my attention. Have been for far longer than I'd care to admit. You can get whatever you want from me, whenever you want it. Haven't you realised this, yet?"

"Apparently I can have anything I want, but not the few things I need. Bloody hell, Malfoy. Do I need to spell this out for you? When I look in the mirror, it's you in my reflection. I - I'm afraid of all the things that can do to me."

"Merlin's fucking bloody ball sack, Granger. We can't just share a nice moment, can we? Have to make it something bigger, something _more_ !" He picked the tumbler back up, swallowed its contents in one, and slammed it back on the table. Hermione flinched at the sound. "I wonder sometimes when you're gone - if I stay on your mind,” he paused to look at her - to let her look at _him_. “I think, well, two of us can play that game, but when I'm honest - you'll _win_ every single _fucking_ time." He stood abruptly and began to traverse back and forth in front of the fireplace. 

He heard her sharp intake of breath and spared her a glance. The tears glistening in her eyes hurt him deeply, but he was too far gone in his rage to react the way he knew he should. Her damn bleeding Gryffindor heart was showing again. Needing him to say things they both knew he felt, but still couldn't bring himself to speak. Once he'd said them, there'd be no taking them back - not for either of them. This witch knew how to push his buttons. The good - and the bad ones. 

"Malfoy, I -" she stopped. Tried again, "Everyone before you was a waste of time. You -," she wiped the tears from her eyes. "You've got me."

"I shouldn't have come back to this forsaken place," Draco snarled. "I should have stayed at home, where I was better off alone! But then you had to go and be all polite, and say 'hello' and asking me to fucking kiss you in front of Weasley, even though I had pulled away! I knew then that it was the end of it all. No more hiding my feelings away, hoping to spare us both from all of this shit. I'm fucking _in love_ with you, Granger. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He had stopped pacing, but fear and anger rolled off of him in waves that she could _feel_. His magic practically crackling to life around him as his chest heaved. "I've been in love with you for fucking years, and now you know. You've heard me say the words. Are you happy now?" Not waiting to hear her answer, he turned away and fled to his room, long cloak billowing in his stead.

Hermione's legs buckled beneath her. _Yes,_ she thought. _It is what I wanted to hear._ _But no, not like that. Morgana help me - am I falling in love with the one that will break my heart for good?_ Draco Malfoy was damaged. Hermione knew this because so was she. The war had changed her in ways she didn't always recognise, but she was healing, and she was healing faster in his arms. Maybe he was right all those weeks ago. Maybe he _was_ every kind of wrong for her. 

Draco was angry, violent, and often unpredictable. He was also scared. Scared of her - and of things unknown to her. And when Draco Malfoy was scared, he was defensive. She made a mental list of the things she knew. While his words had stung her, she _knew_ they cut him deeper. She also _knew_ that healing was a process that worked differently for everybody. Another thing that she _knew_ was that he would never hurt her with anything harder or sharper than his tongue. But words, she _knew_ \- still cut deep. 

Hermione wasn't sure how long she had stayed on the ground sifting through her thoughts and drying her tears. Eventually, she lifted herself off the floor and walked steadily and with purpose to his bedroom. Maybe she was a glutton for punishment. Maybe she just needed him to hear her say it back. 

All of Draco's lights were off, but his door opened under her light touch. He hadn't locked her out, then. He was lying on his side, unmoving. Hermione removed her clothing and hung it over the back of a chair. Picking one of his Quidditch shirts from his dresser, she pulled it on over her head and slipped into bed with him. Draco kept his back to her but relaxed as she spooned him. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered so quietly she barely heard him.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, too. For making you say things you weren't ready to say."

"You misunderstand me, Granger. I've been ready to say them for a lot longer than you can guess. I _haven't_ said them because I still don't see a way where we can make this work long term. We're safe here, in this little bubble we have. We're away from prying eyes. But out there, in the real world, people won't accept this. I don't want to make promises to you that I can't keep."

"We'll figure it out," she said, kissing his shoulder. "And Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"I love you, too."

He didn't move for several precious moments, perhaps he had fallen asleep and hadn't heard her. "Draco?" She tried again. "I'm in love with you." 

Slowly, he turned over and looked at her. Searching her eyes for something she wasn't sure of. Then he kissed her. It was beautiful in its apology, passionate in its quiet need, loving in its un-hurried desire, and exquisite in its tenderness. 

He broke away, and pulled her closer to his side and rested his head on top of hers. They fell asleep locked in each other's embrace, their hearts beating as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sucker - The Jonas Brothers  
> Break My Heart - Dua Lipa


	9. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, big thank you goes out to my girl, MissyJAnne85 whom I call my Beta, but is really more of an Alpha! You know this fic isn't possible without all that you do!
> 
> This is a big one people - a double feature, if you will! I hope you enjoy the fluffy notes while they last!
> 
> The artwork featured in this chapter is a gorgeous manip from the multi-talented [Zorak23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorak23/pseuds/Zorak23)! I still flail when I look at it! Thank you so much!
> 
> As always, it is highly recommended to listen to the chapter songs before you read, but you can find them in the end notes if you don't want the spoilers. You can find ALL of the ALG songs on this [ Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=ucYRdGlmSVy1xgs5BvrphQ).

The morning came when the students who were leaving Hogwarts for the holidays packed their trunks and marked them with their addresses. A tap of their wands on the luggage sent it straight to the Hogwarts Express.

"I guess we had better say goodbye before we go down to the Great Hall," Hermione looked up at Draco once her trunk had vanished. Emotions ghosted across her face, one after the other.

"Come here," Draco murmured softly, offering his hand. He pulled her to him, resting his chin on top of her head. Hermione nestled her face into his sweater and breathed deeply. She didn't want to forget the way he smelled, not even for a minute of their separation. His broad chest expanded as he did the same. "The party is only ten days away. We will see each other then and after that, it's just another few days until we're back here," he told her in a voice full of reassurance. If he could dull the pain of separation for her even just a little bit, it would be worth his next lie. "The time will fly, you'll see."

"I'll miss you," she said, gripping him tighter.

"I'll miss you, too, Granger."

Their eyes met mere moments before their mouths, moulding together with an ease born from practice. Hermione was reluctant to let go, and she clung to him tighter. Draco seemed to be of a similar mind. He grabbed ahold of her waist and hoisted her up to his height. Hermione wrapped her legs around his middle and held him to her. Her tongue laved at his bottom lip, desperately seeking entry. Their tongues collided and the butterflies invaded her stomach, a frenzy of a desire lacing through her. Would she ever have her fill of Draco? She didn't think so. With Hermione in his arms, he walked them over to the nearest wall and supported her weight against it. Her kiss both tormented and soothed him. It was paranormal of the highest kind, and he needed to pull away before their clothes lay in piles on the floor.

Hermione chased his lips with hers, but he had hidden his face in her neck, providing her with one more love bite to add to the hidden collection. Soon, too soon, he broke away and let her slide back down the wall, their hands laced together. 

Amber eyes met silver ones once more. "Merry Christmas, Malfoy. I love you," she said, watching his face. They had fallen back into their old pattern of using each others' surname. It was familiar and safe. It was unspoken but understood between them that their given names were for the rare occasion.

His smile was sad when he responded, "Merry Christmas, Granger. I love you, too. We've really fucked up here."

* * *

Christmas morning arrived cold and wet. Hermione was glad to be waking up late in her own bed, safe and warm under the comforter. She and her parents would be joining Harry and the Weasley's for Christmas lunch. Hermione was excited to see everyone, but still apprehensive about Ron. Their last contact had been at her birthday party, and she knew her parting words to him had not been kind. Still, she was not entirely sure she regretted them, either. Hermione threw back her warm covers and scrambled for her bathrobe and slippers.

_Today will bring what it will bring,_ she thought. _I just hope we all have our Christmas spirits in check._ With that in mind, she trudged downstairs to wish her parents Merry Christmas, share a light breakfast and exchange their presents.

"How are you feeling about seeing Ronald today, dear?" Her mother asked her as she poured the tea. "I know it's not nice to say, but as fond of him as your father and I are-"

"He was no match for you, sweetheart," her father continued, patting her hand. "He is a sweet boy, and very entertaining, but you need someone who can keep up with you. Someone a little more on your level."

Hermione could feel her cheeks warming. She had been home for a few days now, and she still hadn't thought of a way to tell them that her childhood bully now shared her bed, or was it the other way around? Never matter, that was not the point. She had not told them about Draco. She wasn't sure how to, and it was an added bonus that her parents would not be armed with that information before lunch today. 

She had thought that her parents had loved Ron. They hadn't shared any concerns with her before this morning, and she wondered why. "Why didn't you tell me that you didn't think Ron was good for me?" She asked her parents, drizzling some honey over her muesli. 

They exchanged a look, her father opened his mouth, but it was her mother who spoke. "You were so happy, darling. And you have been through so very much."

_That's putting it lightly_ , Hermione thought as her mother continued.

"As parents, we _think_ we know what is right for our children - always. But Hermione, dear, your life is so incredibly different from ours. You know things we could never dream of, have done things we'd never wish for you, sacrificed so much," her mother faltered, tears springing to her eyes.

Her father cleared his throat and scratched at the hair on his chin. "We wanted you to be happy. And we thought that maybe we were wrong about Ronald. You certainly knew him better than we did. But above all, we trust you to make the right decisions for yourself. You're an incredibly bright girl, Nee Nee," he said. His smile spread as Hermione protested against the use of her childhood nickname. "We know you can take care of yourself."

Hermione stood and kissed them each on the cheek. "I appreciate all of that, I really do. But when I bring the next boy home, don't hold your opinions back, ok?"

Hermione took her chair back and dug into her breakfast, willing the conversation to take a turn. She was not so lucky. Leave it to her mother to pick up on her subtleties. 

"Is there a new boy, then?" She asked, her eyebrows raised.

"There might be," Hermione sniffed. Sure, she and Draco had said the big L word and had sex on nearly every surface they could. They had argued over the correct pronunciation of a certain charm, and which order several Ancient Runes should go in, and time and time again about making their relationship public. But was he her boyfriend? Was a boyfriend _only_ a boyfriend when people _knew_ he was your boyfriend? Was he someone she could actually bring home to meet her parents? The thought process was starting to make her head hurt and spiral away from what was important. This was one question that a book could not answer. Maybe some silly teen magazine could, but she had never trusted those. 

Instead, she tried to imagine him sitting at this very table, eating breakfast with her and her parents. Colour rose up her neck as she choked on the grains of muesli that she had inhaled.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" Her father asked, clapping her soundly on the back. 

"Mmhmm," Hermione managed, wiping tears from her eyes. 

"Tell us about this might-be boy! Oh, this is really starting to feel like Christmas morning! It's much more exciting than opening presents," her mother grinned at her. She had cradled her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the table, and eyes expectant. 

"Speaking of presents!" Hermione pushed her chair back, darted to the small Christmas tree in the living room, and came back to the kitchen, handing her parents a small gift each. 

"Alright, alright," her mother grumbled. "Change of topic it is."

* * *

When the clock chimed at eleven-thirty, Hermione was dressed in her Christmas best. Dark blue jeans with boots, and matching silly Christmas sweaters that her parents also wore. Hermione wrapped a scarf around her neck and pulled her long winter coat over the top of her truly hideous Christmas jumper.

"Now, this is going to feel really, _really_ awful," she warned them. "It is not a pleasant way to travel, but as we're not connected to the Floo network, and I haven't learned how to make a Portkey, yet... Well, it is the fastest way to get where we're going. Whatever you do, do not let go of my hands until I tell you that you can, got it?"

Her mother looked nauseous already, while her father looked like he couldn't wait to board the ride. "Ok," she said, grasping each of their hands firmly. "Here we go," Hermione turned on the spot and Disapparated the three of them to just outside of Harry's house. 

"You can let go now," Hermione said.

"Oh my God," her mother responded, bending over to wretch into someone's bushes. 

Her father, despite his eagerness, looked equally pale and was a little wobbly on his legs. As Hermione looked up at Harry's home, she felt a little unbalanced herself. 

When her mother was upright once more, and settling her hair back into place, they crossed the road together and stood in front of the door. Hermione reached into her bottomless beaded bag and produced a breath mint and a bottle of water for her mother, who accepted them graciously.

After a moment or two, her father asked, "Does it just open on its own, then?"

"No," Hermione replied, and sucking in a large breath, she lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped it against the door. Within moments, the door swung inward, revealing the long corridor that was the entry for Harry's home.

"So, it does open on its own!" Her father clapped, delighted.

"Er, no, Dad. It doesn't." Hermione tugged on her father's sleeve and directed his eyes down, to where Kreacher was waiting impatiently for them to step inside.

"Oh, _oh!_ " Her mother exclaimed.

"Hello, Kreacher," Hermione said, cheerfully. "Merry Christmas! May we come in?"

"But of course, Misses Bossy. Master Harry has been missing you. Gets insides, Muggles!"

"Kreacher!" Hermione admonished as they stepped over the threshold, and removed their coats. "We have spoken about this. Have you forgotten already?"

"Sorry, Misses." Kreacher grumbled, shuffling away. The way he was muttering under his breath led Hermione to believe that he had _not_ forgotten her advice, but rather, chose when he wanted to apply it. 

As Hermione showed her parents where to hang their coats, Harry came out of the kitchen, a huge grin on his face. "You made it!" He hugged her tightly. "Mr and Mrs Granger, welcome to my home! And Merry Christmas!" He beamed. "Please, go on upstairs to the living room. I'll join you just as soon as I can get Mrs Weasley out of the kitchen!"

"Hermione, dear. Is that you?" Molly's head appeared through the kitchen doorway. "It is! Oh, how delightful. You've brought your parents with you!"

"And some wine," Hermione pulled out two bottles of red wine from her beaded bag. There was more in there, but two was all she needed Molly to see. It was going to be a long day. 

Molly emerged fully from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as she went. Harry waved his wand at the kitchen door, effectively locking Molly out. With her hostess hat on, Molly hugged them all hello, wished them a Merry Christmas and led them upstairs to the living room. 

Hermione was really pleased to see the progress Harry had made on the house while she had been back at Hogwarts. It was clean, had a fresh coat of paint and almost all of the furniture was new. Gone were the old Black portraits and in their place were a collection of moving photographs. Hermione recognised photos of Harry and Sirius, of his parents, of herself, of Ron; of the three of them together. Christmas lights and tinsel hung off of every surface. Harry was finally claiming this house as his own. 

The living room was awash with Christmas decorations. A large tree stood proudly in the corner, mounds of presents underneath it. All of the Weasleys were present and accounted for, even Bill, Charlie and Percy.

Ginny hugged her hello, and from over the red head's shoulder, Hermione locked eyes with Ron. The blush crept up his neck, to his ears and over his cheeks. He nodded to her and excused himself from the room. Every single set of eyes in the room watched him leave and then flicked to her.

"Uh, excuse me," Hermione smiled into the room, refusing to acknowledge any one person. Hermione squeezed her mother’s arm, gave her father a wobbly smile, and left. Molly would make sure that her parents were taken care of, she was sure.

Hermione found him in his room, the one she had once shared with him. Being back inside it, she couldn't help but remember the last time she was in there. _That_ was where she was standing when he told her that he wouldn't come back to Hogwarts, and where she stood right now, was where she had stood when he broke up with her. The bed they had slept in and made so-called love. Emotion choked in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She had moved on. She was doing better than fine without him.

He watched her leaning against the doorframe from his spot on the bed. "I'm sorry," he said, eyes focused on her shoulders, too nervous to look her in the eyes. 

"For what, exactly?"

"For everything," he shrugged. "I should have told you sooner about my doubts for Hogwarts. I should never have broken it off with you. I shouldn't have come to your party, uninvited. Merlin knows I've been punished enough for that one."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the last one. "Been punished, have you? How do you figure that?"

"Can't get the bloody image of you and Malfoy out of my head, can I?"

_You should get used to it_ , she nearly said. It was on the tip of her tongue. _But no. That's not what I came in here for._

"Yes, well. I suppose I did intend it to be a punishment, so I'm sort of happy to hear it worked."

It was Ron's turn to raise his eyebrows. 

Hermione sighed. "Look, Ron. I'm sorry, too. I said some harsh things to you. I'm not ready to forgive you, not yet, but I _am_ ready to move past it."

"Are you saying you want to get back together?" Ron asked with hope. Far, _far_ too much hope.

Hermione pushed off of the doorframe and sat on the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor.

"No, Ron. That's not what I'm saying. Thank you for apologising for the rest, but do not apologise for breaking things off for me. I,” she stuttered. “I think that it was for the best." Hermione didn't look at him as she said these things. She wasn't sure she could bear to see the look on his face. 

"Are you with someone else?" He asked, voice cracking over the 'else'.

"That's not what I'm saying, either." Hermione was quite proud of the way she skidded around the question. It was neither a confirmation nor a denial. "What I _am_ saying is that you and I - we were never right for each other. Spending some time apart has helped me to see that. I hope it will become clear for you, too," she patted his knee twice, friendly-like.

"No matter when I've done it, leaving you is always the thing I regret most. Time apart hasn't helped me to move on from you. It's made me realise how much I love you, how much I _need_ you. I see now that I have seriously fucked it up this time. I - I will always love you, 'Mione. But, hearing you say this - I'll stop fighting for you. At least for now," he smiled sadly at her. 

Hermione chanced a look at his face, it was red, and there were tears welled in his eyes. Hermione swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"Just-" she stopped, tried again. "Just don't wait for me, okay? Don't hold back from someone who could make you happy because of me. I- I don't want that for you." Hermione reached up and kissed his cheek. 

She stood and made her way back to the living room for small talk and pre Christmas lunch drinks, leaving Ron to process their conversation on his own.

* * *

When Hermione and her parents were saying goodbye, Harry pulled her to the side. "Hey, 'Mione, two of these came in the mail the other week." He showed her a scroll identical to the one Malfoy had given her - the invitation to the New Years Ball. "Did you get one, too?"

Hermione nodded in affirmation. "Yes, why?"

"I just wanted to make sure that all of us were invited. Narcissa may have saved my life, but it doesn't mean that the Malfoy's have suddenly changed their world views."

"Hmm. You might be right about that, Harry. But I _was_ invited, so I guess I'll see you there?"

"You will. But 'Mione. How do you feel about going back there? To the Malfoy Manor, I mean?"

Dread seized her heart for a moment. She hadn't stopped to think about the _place_. She'd been too caught up in the idea of attending a ball with Draco, even if she wasn't _technically_ attending _with_ him. "I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "I think it will be okay, so long as we don't need to go into _that_ room," she gave Harry a shaky smile, subconsciously stroking her left arm.

Harry rubbed her shoulder in a comforting manner. "I guess I'll see you there, then. Oh, is this the sort of thing I should ask Ginny too?"

Hermione stared at him long and hard until he started to wither underneath her glare. 

He gulped audibly. "Yes. That's a yes. I'll ask her tonight, then."

"And tomorrow you will take her shopping. This is the sort of thing a girl needs to prepare for, Harry. No last-minute invitations, thank you very much!"

"Sure thing, Hermione. Whatever you say," Harry nodded.

Hermione patted his cheek affectionately. "See you in a week," she said, stepping out of the door and into the blustering winter air, her parents one step behind her.

* * *

Hermione stared at herself in the full-length mirror and slid the red ruffle strap back up her shoulder. She had taken the afternoon to style her hair in a similar fashion to how she had for the Yule Ball in the fourth year. Maybe it wasn't an original look for her, but she had liked it, and it was the only other time she had had reason to style her hair so opulently. She had felt glamorous then, but now she felt self-conscious. 

The stakes were similar, but her feelings were not. She had studied the current fashion magazines, read column after column of makeup tutorials, and done her best to imitate the model on a cover. A light smatter of a fine, colourless glitter eyeshadow over her eyelids, black eyeliner and mascara. A subtle dusting of blush over her cheekbones, and a deep red lip. Hermione held the cover of the magazine next to her face and felt like she had achieved the look she wanted - simple and elegant.

It was time to go, really. It was already past eight, but Hermione's stomach was churning as she picked apart every detail of the dress she had chosen. Her shoes were uncomfortably high, the black satin too shiny. 

Her eyes glided over a thin scroll of parchment on her dressing table, a small smile graced her face as she remembered its contents. 

Any ball held by the Malfoy's was sure to be a grand affair, but had she gone overboard? The bodice of the dress was tight, and backless, lined with more frills. The chiffon of the skirt moved freely around her legs. Hermione was anxious. She didn't want to seem like she was trying too hard. She glanced up at the clock. Eight-thirty. Was it still considered cool to be fashionably late? Did she have time to make adjustments? She bit her lip nervously, instantly regretting the action when she smeared the lipstick onto her teeth. 

A knock sounded at her door. "Come in," Hermione called. 

Her mother entered, her face softening as she took in Hermione's appearance. "Oh, my darling! You are so beautiful. Just look at you, my baby!"

"I’m hardly a baby, any more, mum,” Hermione smiled. “Do you really think I look ok?"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Her mother apologised, smile wide, a hint that she wasn't sorry at all.

Hermione picked at her skirt. "Isn't it too much?"

"My darling, you look incredible. Why do you doubt yourself? Is the young man that you won't tell us about going to be there?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed. 

"Does he feel the same way about you?"

"He says he does, and I believe him."

"Then I think he will be utterly speechless when he sees you tonight. Hold your chin up high, my sweetheart, and knock em' dead."

"Thanks, mum," Hermione smiled. "I guess I should get going then. I'm late enough as it is." She gave her mum a quick hug, careful not to smudge her makeup, and with a spin and a crack, she was gone.

"I'll never get used to that," her mother said, shaking her head. 

* * *

Hermione arrived at the Malfoy manor with trepidation in her heart. What was she about to encounter? Would she be able to shut off her memories and create new ones? She was shown the way to the ballroom by a delightful House-Elf named Moppy, dressed in her own tiny little black ball gown. The Manor was absolutely nothing like it had been when she was there last. Hermione was surrounded by bright lights, black, red and white decor and a silver ceiling of falling stars. With her gaze trained upwards, Moppy opened the ballroom doors, and Hermione's senses were assaulted anew. The ballroom was full of people, much more than she had expected - laughing, talking, drinking, and dancing. The orchestra, yes, orchestra, Hermione double-checked; were playing something soft and alluring. Something that she recognised, but didn't know the name of. Cocktail tables were covered in long black, silken tablecloths, with small silver trees as the centrepiece. Hermione's eyes caught several of the trees shiver, their branches dropping crystals in imitation of snow.

Hermione had been standing in the doorway, absorbing the party atmosphere for less than thirty seconds before someone took a hold of her arm and pulled her behind a large water fountain. 

"Why did I agree to this?" It was Harry, adjusting his glasses, and pushing his hair out of his face. "I'm at a party I don't want to be at, and I don't ever wear a suit and tie -"

"Yeah," said Ron, suddenly appearing at Harry's side. "You, uh,” he swallowed loudly, his eyes darting over her body. “Look really nice, 'Mione," he stammered, eyes dark and ears pink. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you. Both of you look lovely. I don't know what you're complaining about."

"No one's even looking me in the eye," Harry complained, pulling on his bow tie now, attempting to loosen it, his drink splashing precariously close to his white shirt. 

"Harry! There you are! Hermione, Merlin, you look gorgeous! I wish I could pull off that kind of red!"

"Ginny!" Hermione rushed to her friend's side, hugging her tightly. "You are a vision in white! I love the way your dress moves!" 

Ginny did a little twirl, and her skirt fanned around her. 

"Not sure who you're trying to fool, Gin," Ron grinned. "You? In white? Mum and Dad might believe it, but the rest of us?" Ron chuckled. "Pure, my right arse cheek!" 

Ginny punched her brother on the forearm, numbing it. "Come on, Harry," she said, taking his drink and downing it in one. "Shall we dance?"

With very little choice in the matter, Harry disappeared with Ginny to the dance floor; leaving Hermione to stand awkwardly beside Ron. 

Hermione cleared her throat. Anything was better than watching Ron stare at his feet. "How has the night been so far? I'm sorry I'm a little bit late."

"S'alright," he replied. "But I don't think I fit in at this party. Everyone's got so much to say, but it's all bullshit, isn't it? I always feel like I'm nobody compared to you and Harry -"

Hermione had started to protest, but Ron talked over the top of her. "No, it's alright. I don't mind. It's not a problem for me, not anymore. I guess _you_ always made me feel like _maybe_ I could be somebody, but -"

"Granger. You're here. It's about fucking time! My mother seems to think that because I hand-delivered the invitation to you; that I should be responsible for your tardiness. Weasley," Malfoy nodded at him, just leaning towards politeness.

"Oi! Just cause this is your party, doesn't mean you can speak to Hermione like that, you self righteous git!"

Draco raised his eyebrows at Ron and surprised Hermione by responding civilly. 

"My apologies, Granger, Weasley. The stress of the evening must be affecting my judgement. If you'll excuse us, Ronald, I have some rather urgent _Hogwarts_ business to discuss with my fellow Head," his tone was polite, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the sneer he was holding back.

"'Mione, will you be alright?"

"Yes, thank you, Ron. It's ok," Hermione leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Go and see if you can find something expensive to break," she pulled back with a wink that sent Ron happily on his way. 

She turned back to Draco, a brilliant smile on her face, and eyes alight. Draco was a sight for her sore eyes. Ten days had felt like a lot longer. He was a traditional powerhouse in his all-black suit. A white dress shirt with a black bow tie and black Dragonhide shoes. He was dazzling, and he did not meet her smile. Not with his mouth, and not with his eyes. Hermione felt her smile falter.

His voice was stiff when he asked, "Back on speaking terms with him, are you? Comfortable leaning into his body and whispering sweet nothings in his ear? You know he's looking at you like he can't wait to tear that dress off you? Don't scoff, Granger. I know the look, I'm fucking _wearing_ the look."

"All I did, _Malfoy_ , was say something to send him on his way and give us some privacy. I'm sorry if that made you jealous. You have nothing to be worried about, especially when it comes to Ron. We have had a discussion over the holidays, yes."

"And?"

"And," Hermione swallowed back some indignant rage. "We have come to a sort of truce. We have both apologised to one another, and I have hope that in the future we can be friends again."

"Just friends?" Finally, _finally,_ he met her eyes. Hermione felt the loss of him from the last week and a half even more acutely, especially because she couldn’t touch him.

"Just friends," she confirmed. She simultaneously wanted to strangle and kiss him. He was infuriating that way.

Draco breathed in deeply and held the air in for a moment before releasing it. "Granger, you are breathtaking, absolutely stunning. This vision of you will never leave me."

Kiss him. Scratch the strangling. Hermione definitely wanted to kiss him. But she couldn't - not here. He looked left and right. Behind his shoulder, and over hers. He nodded his head back towards the door and disappeared through it. Hermione waited for a beat and followed him back out into the empty parlour.

"You got my owl, then?" He asked, fingers dancing close to her neck, indicating her lack of adornment. 

"Yes," she sighed, wishing his fingers would even just brush against the hollow of her ear. He dropped his hand to his pocket and produced a pair of earrings. Hermione took one look at them, a gasp escaping as she took in the design. Draco had presented her with pear-shaped, brilliant diamond drop earrings, set in goblin-wrought white gold.

"I- Malfoy! Are those _real_ diamonds? I can't accept these! They must be worth -"

"Very little in comparison to what I have. Take the earrings, Granger. It would please me if you would wear them tonight and treasure them later. Consider them a Christmas gift, if you will."

Well, damn bloody Draco Malfoy and his smooth bloody words. She took the earrings from his hand and slipped them through her ears without another hesitation, securing them in place with the studs. They were heavy, both in weight and in essence. 

The orchestra had stopped, and people were applauding their performance. 

"What was that song they were just playing? I recognised it, but I can't think of the name," Hermione tilted her head, attempting to listen to a song no longer playing.

"Really, Granger? I'm disappointed," he said, admiring how the earrings moved with her. "It's Puccini's 'O Mio Babbino Caro'," he pronounced the last in a flawless Italian accent.

"Ah, yes. How silly of me to forget such a memorable name," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Go and mingle. Let people know you're here. Particularly my mother. She was disappointed that she didn't get the chance to greet you along with Potter and Weasel in the procession line. I'll find you later. You can be sure of that." Draco lifted his hand as if he was going to cup her cheek, but let it drop back to his side before he could make contact.

Hermione felt the disappointment swoop through her as he moved away, disappearing back around through the grand doors. Hermione waited two minutes before following him. Her eyes were drawn to the statue Harry had pulled her behind not ten minutes before. She craned her neck to take in the whole thing. An angel prancing through the shallows, she rolled her eyes. At least it wasn't a damn peacock. With one last look in the direction Draco had taken, she melted into the crowd on the opposite side. 

Hermione floated through the horde of people, accepted a flute of champagne from a passing tray, and nodded to the people she knew or recognised. Her eyes were searching for Narcissa. She needed to find her for purposes of her own. She was hoping that Draco's mother might see something more in her than just a clever Muggle-born witch. She was hoping that Narcissa would see a witch who was more than a fine match for her son. 

Finally, she saw a tall figure, with platinum blonde hair wound into an intricate design on the top of her head. Narcissa was magnificent. She stood tall and confident. Perfectly intimidating, and Hermione started to understand the Veela rumours. The top of her strapless, fitted gown was black, the bottom a glittering silver, the two shades blending in a swirl around her waist. Hermione was feeling daunted by the beauty of the woman in front of her. But she held her head high, just like her mother had told her, and made what she hoped was a graceful appearance in front of her hostess. 

Hermione approached her from behind, unsure what to do to get her attention, she settled for a quick tap on the shoulder. Narcissa spun around elegantly, met her eyes, and smiled warmly at Hermione.

"Mrs Malfoy, thank you for inviting me here this evening. Your home is truly stunning, and the ballroom is spectacular." 

"Miss Granger!" Narcissa’s smile was a lesson in decorum. "I'm delighted that you were able to attend. I'm sorry I wasn't available to greet you when you arrived. I was needed elsewhere."

Hermione did not miss the slight that Narcissa handed her about being late. Mrs Malfoy’s eyes swept from Hermione’s head to her toes, her right eyebrow twitched slightly as she took in Hermione’s shoes. _Damn it, they_ are _too shiny,_ Hermione fought off the groan that wanted to escape her.

"No need to apologise, Mrs Malfoy. A hostess has many demands on her time, and you truly are most gracious in making time to greet me now." Hermione addressed the thickly veiled snub with a sugary sweetness that would make her parents wince. She channelled her inner Gryffindor and carried on before she had a chance to chicken out. Hermione had a feeling that Draco's mother would appreciate a quick wit. "I apologise for my tardiness. I didn't anticipate the time it would take to wrangle my hair together." Although Hermione's smile was warm, she remained guarded. She needed to stay on her toes.

Narcissa's eyes were dancing with laughter that she did not allow to reach her lips. "Hmm," she said, instead. "You styled your hair yourself? I have seen your curls in action, my dear. You have done well with them this evening." 

Hermione shook her head, a shy smile on her face. Her new earrings swayed against her neck with the movement. Narcissa caught their movement for just a moment before she focused on something over Hermione's left shoulder. "Oh, Draco, darling. Look who is here," Narcissa preened. 

Hermione felt her heart plummet to her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to remain calm, voice even, and a neutral expression on her face. She had thought she'd been keeping up with Narcissa, but the playing field was far from level. Hermione knew that Narcissa had a keen eye and was sure she had noticed her earrings. Perhaps they were familiar to her? Draco might have bought them recently, or they might be some sort of heirloom. Hermione didn’t know, and would probably never ask. She also couldn't predict what Narcissa would observe when she watched her with her son. Hermione would have to be careful.

"Granger," Draco acknowledged her gruffly.

"Malfoy," she responded, tone equally unfriendly.

"Come now, you two. We're having a party, and you need to show everyone how well you're getting along - even if you aren't. There are appearances at stake here," Narcissa smiled coyly. "Draco darling. Ask Miss Granger to dance. The pianist is about to begin Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'."

"Mother, really, I -"

“Oh, Mrs Malfoy, I really can’t-”

"I'll hear nothing more of it. Draco, ask your colleague to dance."

"Shall we, Granger?" Draco asked. Resigned, he offered his arm.

"I'd be delighted," Hermione drawled in response. She took his arm and prayed to Morgana that Narcissa was buying the performance. 

Draco didn't dare glance at her as they made their way to the dance floor. 

"Would you have danced with me, if I'd have asked?" He whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. 

They had made it to the middle of the floor, as Narcissa would expect. Everyone attending this party would see her son dancing with the Muggle-born, ensuring that they saw how well he was able to cooperate. 

Hermione didn't need to answer, surely he should know. He took her right hand in his and placed his left on her lower back. Hermione's spare hand drifted to his shoulder, aching to reach behind his neck and run her fingers through his hair. She resisted the temptation.

"Or would you run, and never look back?"

Draco's right foot took a step forward in time with the music. Hermione stumbled backwards, momentarily forgetting that she needed to dance. He had distracted her with that last line. 

"Run where?" she whispered back, as he led her seamlessly in a circular motion with the other couples. Of course, he could dance. It was just one more thing to add to the list of dreamy qualities he had. 

"Anywhere. With me, away from me? The options are endless," he said, voice flat, eyes focused up high on a tier ringing the ballroom that Hermione was yet to notice. Her eyes followed his, but saw nothing of significance. Just people watching the dancing and involved in their conversations. 

“Don’t you know by now? I’m with you. Always,” she hissed through her teeth, careful to keep her rigid smile in place.

"Would you tremble if I touched your lips?"

Hermione groaned, her eyes flashing. "Do not tease me like this, Malfoy. I'm barely keeping it together as it is!"

He twirled her under his arm, her skirt billowing around her. He pulled her back, fitting her snuggly to his side. 

"Would you swear that you'll always be mine?" His hand gripped hers a little harder, his other twitching against her back.

"Draco," she hissed, suddenly angry. "You're the one who wants to keep this a secret. You're going to get us caught!"

He ignored her, continuing to lead them around the dance floor, picking up the pace in time to the building crescendo from the piano. 

"Merlin, this song is too long," Hermione complained. She needed to get away from him before one of them did something they'd regret. 

"It is not too long, and I don't care," he said. He ripped his eyes away from the tier above and trained them on Hermione, instead. There was a fire in his eyes, and Hermione held her breath. This could not be a good thing. Draco was not being careful, and she knew he'd regret it. He'd take it out on her, adding another item to his list of things to loathe about himself. "I don't care," he said again, watching her eyes dart back and forth. "You're here tonight," he shifted their joined hands just a fraction towards her face, intending to run his finger across her cheek. 

She knew his movements too well, had been studying them for weeks, and she was a clever witch. She wouldn't give him the chance to ruin what they had. She dropped his hand and stepped away from him, nearly bumping into another couple as she did so. "I think we've danced long enough," she said, adequately loud for the people around them to hear. She turned and darted through the remaining couples on the floor, leaving Draco to do the same. 

_Stupid, reckless jerk! What is Draco thinking? He's not. He's not thinking, he's forgotten himself for some reason. Too much Firewhisky, perhaps._ Hermione pushed through the crowded ballroom, seeking fresh air. She found a balcony overlooking the most beautiful gardens she'd ever laid eyes on. There were vast expanses of lawn, broken up by a large pond, topiaries and artfully placed garden beds. She focused on the types of flowers she could discern from this distance, willing her heart to stop racing.

"Everything alright?" 

Hermione started, turning to see Ginny coming to join her. 

"Nice view," Ginny said when Hermione didn't respond. 

"Mmm," Hermione agreed.

"So. Malfoy can dance," Ginny tried again.

"Yes. I'm adding it to the list of reasons why I could strangle him," Hermione turned her head and met Ginny's eyes.

"Everything alright?" She asked again.

"He's an absolute arse sometimes, Gin. I don’t understand him. He was being so careless just now. It's like he gets off on the _pain_ he can put himself through, and me by proxy." Hermione glanced around. She and Ginny were the only ones on the balcony, and she could see no one strolling through the gardens. " _He's_ the one who wants to keep us a secret. I'd scream about it until my lungs would give out if Draco would let me. He seems to think that people will be out to get me, or him, if we were public. He thinks he's _protecting_ me. It's infuriating, but I'm on board until he decides otherwise. But tonight, in front of everyone, he - he just, gah!" Hermione threw up her hands in frustration.

"Hermione, listen. I don't know what went on between you two on that dance floor. What I _do_ know is that you two are involved, and I'm telling you, that right up until the end, you both looked like you'd rather be doing anything else than dancing together. You did a very, very good job."

"What did you see at the very end, then?"

"Er, some rather intense eye contact. But 'Mione, that could be read in any number of ways. I'm sure most people will assume he said something unpleasant, and that's why you stormed off."

Hermione released the breath she was holding, along with some of the tension from her shoulders.

"Good, ok. That's what I was hoping for. He'd been about to do something spectacularly stupid, I'm sure of it."

Ginny turned her back to the garden. Leaning against the rail, she watched the party happening inside. 

Another floating tray full of champagne flutes drifted out towards them. Ginny lifted one for herself while Hermione took two. She downed the first one while Ginny watched on, eyebrows raised. Hermione placed the empty glass back on the tray before it floated away and cradled her second. 

"You go on back in and find Harry, see if you can't get him to dance again," Hermione smiled. "I just need another minute."

"I'm pretty sure he's hiding from me," Ginny grinned. "He's had rather enough dancing tonight. But I'll see what I can do," she winked, leaving Hermione to the peace of the chilly night air. 

The moment Ginny was back inside, Moppy appeared next to Hermione with a crack. She dropped her champagne glass over the edge of the balcony and into the garden below. Hermione didn't watch it fall. Her wand was out of her leg holster and in her hand before she'd even registered what she'd done.

"Apologies, Miss. Moppy is not meaning to startle you. Master asked Moppy to wait until Miss was alone to give her this." Moppy presented Hermione with a folded piece of parchment, bowing low. Hermione plucked the note out of the elf's hand.

"Thank you, Moppy," Hermione said.

"You is most welcome, Miss," Moppy replied. "Moppy is to wait until you has finished reading," she said, gesturing for Hermione to go ahead and open the note.

_Granger,_

_You're right. I was a complete arse._

_Let me make it up to you._

_Burn this and go with Moppy._

_DM_

_"Incendio"_ Hermione said, touching her wand to the note. "Let's go, Moppy," Hermione reached out her hand to the elf.

Together they Disapparated, and by the time Hermione's feet had touched the ground, Moppy was gone again.

Hermione took in her surroundings. She was standing in the middle of a small white gazebo. She could barely see the Manor in the distance, even with its lights. There was a small pond to her left, brightly coloured koi catching the moonlight as they swam through the shallows. She left the little structure to get a closer look at the fish. More green grass and topiaries on her right and Wisteria hanging from the roof and trellis of the gazebo. Her shoes sunk into the grass and she shivered. It was especially cold out here next to the water and in the open air. With her wand still in her hand, she cast a warming charm over herself and waited.

Less than a minute later, a loud crack rent through the air and Hermione had her wand trained on Draco's chest. She dropped her hand in relief and holstered it back to her leg. 

She wanted to step into him, but instead, she watched him, a question on her face.

"We're safe out here, Granger. I placed the wards myself. We can't stay too long, though. People will start to notice that we're missing." 

Hermione instantly softened at the sound of his voice. Despite this, her anger got the better of her. "You're a _stupid git_ , did you know that? Ten more seconds on that dance floor and your precious secret would have been blown. _What_ got into you?"

"Fuck," he said, starting to pace. "You were right to move away when you did. I had been about to fuck it all up. You don't see the way other people look at you, the way those wizards track your every movement. The room was full of them. Young, old, married, single. You are _mine_ , Granger. And for one small, _insanely stupid_ moment, I was ready to risk it all to have them know it." He said, finally moving toward her.

"When will this end?" She asked, sliding her hands up his chest, and meeting his eyes with hers. His arms circled her waist, and he pulled her closer. 

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don't," he said. "I've missed you, Hermione."

Her heart melted as it always did when he used her given name. "I've missed you too, Draco," she replied. He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head to kiss her softly. She finally wound her fingers through his hair and pulled him harder against her, flicking her tongue against his bottom lip, demanding entry to his mouth. He obliged her, moulding her body to his, fingers itching to undo all of the hard work she'd put into her hair. One curl slipped loose, followed by two more. Hermione stepped out of her shoes. They stayed stuck in the grass and she allowed him to lift her off the ground. For a brief moment, he held her suspended in the air. Their mouths clashing. Want, need, and desire all fighting for attention, whispering _I love you_ in words unsaid. 

He set her back down on the ground, feet squishing into the dew-damp grass. Hermione didn't care. He held her head close to his rapidly beating heart.

"Dance with me," Draco said. 

Ignoring the fact that there was no music, Hermione agreed. "Ok," she hummed, face still pressed against his chest. 

"Follow my lead," he whispered, twirling her in his arms, once, twice, before taking the pose for the waltz.

He led her around the pond in a dance much more graceful than the one they'd shared inside. This was intimate and loving, a memory she knew she would cherish forever. 

"I'll never understand how I got this lucky," he said, bending her back in a low dip, and sweeping her from left to right, and back up to his chest. His eyes drew her in. "I've found a woman, stronger than anyone I know. You carry my secrets and make them your own," he groaned. "Granger, I don't deserve you, but I'll spend forever trying to."

Hermione sighed. Her heart was full. "We are just kids. How can we be this in love? And we're fighting against all of the odds. Do you think we can make it?"

"I'm not sure, Granger. I haven't figured out that part of the plan yet."

"Maybe if you'll tell me what other obstacles we're facing, I can help you work on the plan," Hermione said. She knew he wouldn't tell her - she'd tried before. But she would keep on trying just the same.

He ignored her like she knew he would. "Just keep dancing in the dark with me, Granger. We’re running out of time."

"Draco, please. I want to see my future in your eyes," she whispered, needing him to know how badly she wanted to help. They should be in this together. Hermione was certainly not a damsel in distress.

He hummed something low in his throat, blissfully ignoring her tiny protest. "How can I focus on the future when I have you between my arms. Not to mention, barefoot in the grass," he chuckled.

"Oh, I must be a mess!" Hermione realised. She'd been far too caught up in him to notice anything about herself.

"Darling, you look perfect tonight," he assured her.

She reached up on her tiptoes and placed a slow, sweet, loving kiss on his lips. He smiled against her mouth. "You’re perfect in my eyes, Granger, but I might have ruined your hair before. I’m sorry - I have to go, but you should take a minute, find your shoes. If I can't see you before you leave, I'll see you at school." He kissed her cheek and Disapparated before she could say another word. 

Hermione unholstered her wand and conjured a mirror. " _Lumos_ ," she said, inspecting the damage. Her hair was not as bad as she had thought. A tweak here and there, she shoved some pins back into place. No one would know the difference. She trudged back to the other side of the pond where her shoes were still sticking out of the grass. She pulled them out of the ground and sat on the stairs of the gazebo. She cast a _Scourgify_ over her feet, skirt, and shoes before slipping them back on. Hermione dusted her hands off on her dress and Disapparated, arriving back on the balcony and startling several guests. 

"Sorry," she apologised. "I got lost coming back from the loo. This place is so huge," she shrugged, leaving them behind to find her friends before the clock struck midnight.

* * *

Finally, _finally_ , all of the guests had left. It was two in the morning, and Draco had just shouldered his way out of the heavy black jacket he was forced to wear all evening. He was looking forward to a long, hot shower, and his soft bed where he would be free to dream of Hermione, her hair tangled around his fingers, while his eyes absorbed every detail of how she had looked that night.

But it was not meant to be. His mother was knocking on his door. 

He sighed. "Come in," he called, taking a seat in his favourite chair by the window. His leg crossed loosely over his knee, the picture of nonchalance. 

Narcissa entered his room, the train of her gown trailing after her. She leaned against his bedpost.

"Did you have fun tonight, darling?"

"I think it might be the best one yet, mother. Well done."

"Hmmm," she purred, pleased. "Any of the young ladies catch your attention tonight? Miss Parkinson seemed to be rather enamoured with another young gentleman, which is a shame. But the younger of the Greengrass sisters - she looked lovely this evening, did she not? She wouldn't be my first choice," Narcissa hummed. "But she certainly seemed taken with you. Astoria, isn't it?"

"Astoria is a bore, rivalled only by her elder sister. Thank Merlin she's too preoccupied with Blaise to notice me. No, thank you, mother. I believe I can do my own matchmaking."

"Is that why you disappeared for nearly an hour this evening?" Her eyes narrowed. 

Fuck, he should have known it was a trap. "I just needed some fresh air. I took a stroll through the gardens. You know I dislike all of the fuss," he lied smoothly. 

"Curious. Your absence was very well timed with Miss Granger's. A coincidence, perhaps?" Narcissa was not letting up. She was on to him, and she was not impressed. 

"We bumped into each other." Another smooth lie. "Had a quick conversation about changing up the Prefects nightly patrols. I've had enough of working on the weekends." He kept his pose purposely neutral, but Narcissa was sharp and clever; never missing a beat. She was too practised at making small observations, especially in the last few years.

"I thought she looked lovely this evening. She really has turned into the most beautiful woman. Fantastic taste in jewellery, too. Did you happen to notice her earrings? They reminded me _so much_ of my Grandmother's. I know those technically belong to you now, my darling, but you wouldn't mind if I took them out of storage, cleaned them up and wore them for a little while, would you?" Her tone was sweet as honey, dripping with sugar.

"Mother -"

"I'm feeling rather nostalgic." From honey to ice, Narcissa was dropping the game. 

Draco got to his feet, ready to start his defence. Narcissa held her right hand up, palm facing her son, effectively stopping him from speaking. 

"I agree. Physically, intellectually, socially - the Granger girl would make a good match for you. I can see that she makes you happy, no matter what you tried to hide. The whole evening you glared daggers at any man who happened to even brush past her, let alone speak to her. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Draco had no response. All of his carefully laid plans undone by his impulsively observant mother, who he _never_ should have underestimated. He had counted too heavily on her being distracted this evening and had overestimated his own skills. He continued to say nothing, knowing that she was far from finished. She sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the space next to her. Draco obliged her. 

Narcissa placed her hand lovingly on her son's knee. "I can see that she makes you happy. Your whole demeanour changed from the moment you saw her arrive. My love, I _want_ you to be happy. Nothing would make me more pleased than to see you come alive, thriving, and enjoying your life. Hermione Granger _could_ pull our name out of the mud it still sits in, despite all appearances tonight."

"There is a 'but' coming, I know there is."

"Yes, there is. I am not the only one who noticed this. Your uncle was here this evening, Draco. With the Dark Lord and Bellatrix both gone, his one remaining loyalty is to your father. You know as well as I that it is _impossible_ for you to wed anyone who is not pure of blood. Your father will go to endless lengths to prevent your fraternisation with the Muggle-born. You _must_ ," she hissed that last word, "end whatever it is you have with her."

"I will not," Draco seethed, standing up and tracing a path in the plush carpet. "She is _everything_. _I_ _will not give her up._ "

"Then you will watch her die. If not directly by your father's hand, then your uncle's by extension. And if for some reason they fail, because she is an exceptional witch, surrounded by exceptional wizards; yourself included, my darling, then terrible things are sure to happen. Curses older than this house are in place to prevent a union with someone our ancestors deemed undesirable. You should _know better_ , Draco. End it, or watch her die. The choice is yours to make." 

Narcissa stood, smoothed her skirt down and left his room as gracefully as she had entered. 

The moment the door closed behind her, Draco flicked his wrist towards his dressing table. Glass bottles shattered and drawers rattled to the floor. His next victim was his bed, he shredded the mattress - and its opulent dressings to tatters. He brought the four posts crashing down on top of it. Chest heaving, he wasn't done. He charged into his closet and pulled every item off of every shelf, sliced through robe after robe, tearing whatever he could to pieces with his bare hands. He screamed at his four walls until his voice was hoarse. He had always known this, of course. That any relationship with Hermione would end in disaster, that she could never be truly his. He had _warned_ her for fucks sake, and yet he had let it happen anyway. He had gotten carried away in the feel of her embrace. He loved her and he couldn’t stop. He _couldn’t_. It wasn’t possible.

Draco stood there in the end. His eyes glazed over on the destruction he had wrought in his room - by magic and by hand. He saw it and considered it nothing in comparison to the devastation of his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your end of chapter angst was interrupted to show you the most amazing piece of work by Jaxx_ina_box, commissioned for me by Caitlincheri28 & MissyJAnne85 for my birthday. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
> 
> As always, if you've gotten this far, I assume you like what I do! Your comments/ reviews and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> I Don't Care - Ed Sheeran & Justin Bieber  
> Hero - Enrique Iglesias  
> Perfect - Ed Sheeran
> 
> If you're curious about the earrings, follow this [link](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/554153929129243343/).


	10. Blank Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to my main squeeze - MissyJAnne85. I love you & all that you do! You're the best!
> 
> You'll find this week's songs added to the ALG Playlist on Spotify which you can find [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=mJDSUl36T5qtSO6tGpLbyw).
> 
> Songs are listed in the end notes for spoiler convenience. 
> 
> A huge shout out to the gorgeous Fae Orabel for making this stunning manip for me!! I can not thank you enough!
> 
> If you are so inclined you can find me on Tumblr [here](https://whatsomalfoy.tumblr.com/). Or find me on Facebook under Nat Wotso, to gain "insights" into the inner workings of my mind.

Draco and Hermione stood side by side in the Prefect's Cabin on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione was finishing up with her 'Welcome Back to School' speech, complete with her expectations for the term. 

"Anything you'd like to add, Malfoy?" She asked, turning to him.

"No, I think you've got it all covered, Granger," he coughed into his hand. "Did you have any fun at all during the holidays? Or did all your time go into preparing this speech?" He asked with a disparaging smirk.

"I did, thank you! And the speech was _not_ that long!" Hermione looked to her prefects for confirmation. They all had found other, more interesting things to look at - their shoes, someone else's ear, the Scottish countryside rushing by through the window.

"Ok, sorry, everyone. Go and enjoy your free time with your friends. See you all at the next meeting!" Hermione dismissed them, leaving her alone with Malfoy.

When the door slid closed behind the last one, Hermione flicked her wrist at it, effectively locking out everyone on the other side. She turned her body towards him and pulled him down to meet her in a kiss. "I missed you, Malfoy. I did not enjoy those two weeks apart - at all!"

Draco sat down on the carriage seat with a thud. "I've missed you, too. I almost didn't know what to do with myself without your constant pestering about homework and prefect duties. _Almost_ ," he smirked, that one eyebrow lifting to his hairline. Hermione sighed, sinking down next to him, completely content. She picked up his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaning into him.

"How long do you think we have before someone comes looking for us?" Hermione asked him, her tone playful.

"Not long," Draco replied. He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and extricated himself from her grip. "We should probably split up for a little while. At least until we get back from dinner."

"You're probably right," Hermione sighed. Still, she wished he'd have let her hold on for a little while longer. 

"I'll go first. I'll see you later tonight, Granger." 

Hermione unlocked the door with a swish of her wand through the air. He turned and gave her a brief smilebefore he disappeared through it. Something unpleasant swooped through Hermione's thoughts, down to her stomach, and then back up to her heart where it settled with a heavy thud. Ignoring the sensation, she turned to her paperwork and made the necessary adjustments. As per usual, several prefects had prior engagements that meant a change to the roster. Hermione was glad for the distraction. It kept her from thinking of more disagreeable things - like how aloof Malfoy seemed to be this morning. _I'm fine, he's fine, we're fine. We're happy and in love. Just focus on the damn roster, Hermione,_ she told herself.

After dinner, Hermione retreated to her bedroom to unpack her trunk. When her clothes were hanging nicely, and her shoes all lined up, she went to check on Draco. Curiously, he wasn't in his room, and his luggage sat untouched at the end of his bed. Maybe he was waiting for her in the bathroom, already deliciously naked in a hot bath. Anticipation singing through her nerves, Hermione danced down his stairs and all but skipped her way to the bathroom. It, too, was empty. _No matter,_ she thought. _I'll be the one who is already naked and waiting._

With this in mind, she turned the taps on and added their preferred scents. Vetiver for Draco and Jasmine for herself. The combination of the two had her feeling high. She knew she had missed him, but as the steam rose from the hot water, Hermione could feel how badly she had yearned for him dancing through her veins. 

When the water reached the right height, Hermione shrugged free of her clothes and descended into the velvety depths of the swimming pool sized bath. She swam, and she floated. She washed and conditioned her hair. She played with all of the different scented soaps and then swam some more. She occupied herself while waiting for Draco until the water grew cold. Resigned, she left the bath, wrapped herself in a fluffy bathrobe and went back to their dormitory. It was still empty. Hermione dressed in her fluffiest, most ridiculous, and most comfortable pyjamas. She stuffed her feet into her oversized cat-shaped slippers and trudged back down the staircase. 

Hermione jerked her wand hand in the direction of the fire. Flames burst up through the grate to a height she hadn't predicted. Calming herself, Hermione pointed her wand more accurately, and the flames lowered, crackling nicely in the pit. She picked up a book she had left on the coffee table during the holidays and thumbed through the pages. Still feeling uneasy, she searched for the tumbler and flask of Firewhiskey hidden behind some books. Hermione poured herself two fingers' worth and went back to the book, intent on absorbing some of its knowledge. 

It was two in the morning when Draco crept in through the portrait. He came to a complete stop when he saw Hermione still curled up on the sofa, book in her hands, and fresh tears in her eyes. Even the secondary portrait of Anne Boleyn was glaring at him. Draco gulped. 

"Nice to meet you, Malfoy. _Where have you been?_ I didn't realise that _'I'll see you later tonight'_ meant that you would be gone for the entirety of it," Hermione said, gritting her teeth. She did not want to cry, not again, and not in front of him. 

"Granger, I-"

"You're sorry? I know! So what? Are you going to explain where you've been? Or why you suddenly seem to be avoiding me? Is our love a game that you want to play?"

"Granger, look. I'm sorry I was out all night. It wasn't my intention. I just -"

"You just what? Suddenly forgot that you told your girlfriend to wait for you? Did you make other plans - forget to tell me about them? What, Malfoy?"

"I just got sidetracked. I was with Theo and I-"

"Oh, ok, then. Acceptable. All forgiven. I'll just go to bed now and pretend I haven't been waiting for you for the last-" Hermione looked at her wrist, checking her watch for the time. "Six and a half hours. No problem at all. See you in the morning, Malfoy!" Hermione slammed her book shut, stood up and turned for the stairs.

"For fuck's sake, Granger. Will you let a man get a word out?"

"Not if the words he wants to say aren't worth hearing!"

"They might be if you'd just take the time to listen! Magic and Madness, you're infuriating!"

"Excuse me?" Hermione whipped her head around, facing him once more. "Say it again, Malfoy. Make your next mistake!" Hermione dared him.

"Fucking hell, Granger. You’re always screaming or crying. You're a perfect storm, did you know that? A rose garden filled with thorns just waiting to tear my skin to shreds at the slightest provocation."

"We just seem to keep coming back here. Stolen kisses and pretty lies, and you’re happy keeping me a dirty secret. Then we argue, I cry, and you apologise. It's all just one vicious cycle. You're a fucking nightmare dressed like a daydream!"

"You're one to talk, Granger. It's like you found out what I wanted and became that girl for a month. I _knew_ we’d take this way too far! "

"Yes, and what am I stuck with? You seem to only want love if it's torture. You're the king of cowardice, Draco - does that make me your queen?"

"I knew this would go down in flames! And don't you say I didn't warn you! Cause I fucking did! Tell me, Granger! Is the high worth the pain?"

Hermione sighed. The fight had left her. She was red in the face when she plopped back down on the sofa she had only just vacated moments before. Draco carded his hands through his hair and down over his face. He slumped down next to her, taking her hand in his. 

Hermione looked down at their interlaced fingers with interest. How could they go from screaming and yelling one moment, literally tugging at their hair, to sitting quietly and holding hands the next? This was unhealthy. She knew it, and she didn't care. She still loved him. "We are young, and I suppose that makes us reckless. But Malfoy, I don't _want_ to be reckless with my heart. Or yours. I am sick of this feeling. Every time we’re together, I’m wondering if you'll leave me breathless - or if you’ll come up with some other way to pretend this isn't real. That’s all I need - another nasty scar.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “We need to figure this out. We need to learn how to navigate this - us - properly."

"According to the school rumours, I have a long list of ex-lovers, all lined up and ready to tell you that I am insane. The long list is a lie, but I'm sure plenty of people think I've lost it," Draco hesitated, changed tack. "I have one blank space in my heart, Hermione. And it's where I've written your name. I don't know what we need to do, but you're right. This isn't good."

Hermione leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She slumped back against the couch, exhausted. "That's a lovely sentiment, Draco. But I'm done talking for the night. I'm tired. Let's go to bed." 

* * *

Unfortunately, the following morning was a school day and classes had resumed as per the usual. Hermione left Draco in his bedroom to get ready for the day. After the holidays, Hermione didn't have any of her things stored in his room. She had just arrived at the bottom of his staircase when she realised that she was not alone. 

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Oh, uh. Good morning, Headmistress McGonagall," Hermione stammered. "I was just err, just making sure Malfoy was awake and not going to try to skip any classes today. It's uh, become somewhat of a habit, I suppose."

"Mmmhmm," McGonagall intoned. The older woman peered over the top of her glasses at Hermione, obviously not believing a word of Hermione's lies. "Your sleeping arrangments do not concern me, Miss Granger. I have a confession for you, and I'd like to share it with you when you have a free period today. Please come and see me in my office when you are available."

"Oh, of course, Headmistress. I will be sure to do that."

"Good day to you, Granger. I'll see you after lunch."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when the portrait closed behind her professor, and she could make her way to her bedroom. Apparently, Minerva was not fooled by Hermione's lies. She would need to be embarrassed about that later on. Right now, she was consumed by the thought of what McGonagall _needed to_ _confess_ to her. 

Hermione pulled on her school pants and tucked her shirt into it. She fixed her tie around her neck and pulled her sweater over her head. Hermione checked her appearance in the mirror. She sighed when she saw the state of her hair. Her curls were running rampant in every direction. She dipped her fingers in a pot of Sleekeazy's and ran them through her hair. It didn't help. With a sigh, Hermione tied her hair back in a bun and decided that would do. Slipping her shoes on her feet and her Gryffindor robe over her shoulders, she went back downstairs to meet Draco in the common room.

"Did I hear McGonagall in here earlier?"

"You did," Hermione confirmed. "She caught me coming out of your bedroom in my pyjamas. She didn't buy the lie I spun her."

"Shit," he swore. "I guess the old bat has eyes sharp as a cat's after all."

Hermione swotted him on the arm. "Minerva McGonagall is not an old bat!" She chastised him. "But yes, it appears that she knows and isn't _one little bit_ phased."

"What did she want?"

"For me to come and see her this afternoon in my free time."

"Hmm," Draco pondered. "I guess we will have to save our real talk for after dinner tonight."

"I suppose so," Hermione said. "And you _will_ be back here straight after dinner?"

"As much as I am dreading this conversation? It'll be hard, but I promise," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Good, I'd rather like to avoid any more of these fights," Hermione's smile wavered. She took one of his hands in hers and gave it a short, tight squeeze. A deep breath in cleared her foggy eyes.

 _Me too, but I think they're far from over,_ Draco thought. "After you," he said, gesturing towards the exit.

* * *

The whole day long, Hermione had been on the edge of her seat; curious about what McGonagall wanted to tell her. She'd been having a hard time concentrating in class, almost missing out on answering various questions. During lunch, she had eaten ravenously and avoided Ginny's curious gaze. 

"McGonagall wants a meeting," Hermione shrugged. "I want to know what it's about and then try to put my study period to actual study use," Hermione said by way of rushed explanation, folding bread into her mouth.

"Ah, makes sense," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. "You're giving yourself a stomach ache so you can get more study done."

"The N.E.W.T's aren't getting further away, Ginny," Hermione reminded her with a wink and a smile.

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny waved her friend off. "Go and have that meeting with McGonagall."

Hermione wiped her mouth on a napkin and stood. A pair of dark grey eyes watched her leave the Great Hall.

* * *

"Cinnamon sticks," Hermione said to the stone Gargoyle and waited while it turned, making the staircase accessible. 

"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked, knocking on the door. 

"Come in, Miss Granger." 

Hermione did as she was told and entered the Headmistress' office. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, please take a seat. Tea?" McGonagall offered.

Hermione nodded and watched as a teapot filled her cup with the steaming liquid. She stirred a splash of milk into the tea and waited patiently for the Headmistress to speak. Minerva seemed to be nervous about whatever she had to say. Hermione looked up and locked gazes with the portrait of Dumbledore. He steepled his fingers and watched her over his half-moon spectacles. Hermione smiled when he winked.

"I'm afraid I may have done you a disservice, Miss Granger."

"Professor?" Hermione asked, confused. She wracked her brain to think of an occasion this could fit.

"I have encouraged you to spend time with Mr Malfoy, and -"

"Professor, please. I think I know where this is going. I want to stop you before we go any further. I - we - we're happy. For the most part, anyway. We still have a lot of differences, but I - I love him. And he loves me."

"I know, Miss Granger. I have known for quite some time and I believe I may be somewhat responsible for it." Minerva took a sip of her tea, hands shaking.

"I don't understand, Professor," Hermione confessed. She had never seen Minerva so on edge or unsure about anything. Ever.

"When I was younger, Granger, I had what I considered to be a healthy curiosity with time-turners. You will, of course, remember the one that I leant you in your third year," McGonagall did not stop to let Hermione confirm. "You will also remember the _strict_ instructions I gave you to only turn it backwards? And never for more than a few hours at a time."

"Yes, and that's all I ever did," Hermione stated, still uncertain where this was going. What on Earth did time turners have to do with her relationship with Draco?

"Once, when I was very young, I wanted to experiment. I fancied myself rather an expert on the device. Perhaps I was also seeking a little adventure. In any case, I turned the hourglass forward. Three times, to be exact, and I landed thirty years in the future. Just a month or two from now, in fact. I saw, learned and experienced a lot of new and exciting things, and I learned of fates that I had no right to. One of those fates, Miss Granger, was yours. Yours and Mr Malfoy's. I knew - I have always known that you two would fall in love. I've watched the two of you grow all these years. I’ve watched you fight, and bicker, and compete against one another in classes. I watched, and I knew. And now I wonder if maybe I have taken your choices away."

Hermione was shocked, to say the least. McGonagall had experimented with time turners? That was forbidden as far as she knew. Not only that, but she had arrived in the future, and seen what exactly?

"How long did you stay in the future? What did you learn? How did you return? Have you encountered yourself? Did you know about the war - how things would turn out - both times? How about -"

"Miss Granger, please. I'm telling you more than I should, already. I thought perhaps I should offer you an explanation for my odd behaviour this year. I believe that I may have twisted the hand of fate more than I had any right to. I'd like to apologise. I don't know what more will happen between you and Mr Malfoy, but I will no longer interfere. This meeting is to officially declare his probationary period over. I hope that I do not need to remind you of the sensitive nature of this conversation. You may, of course, tell Malfoy because it involves him as much as it does you. Other than that, it should not leave the walls of this office."

"If I may be so bold, Headmistress -"

"You rarely stop to ask for permission, Miss Granger. I don't see why now should be any different," McGonagall smiled warmly at Hermione. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and cleared her throat.

"Why didn't you just ask Malfoy to join me here?"

"Ah, yes. I thought perhaps the news might be received better if you were the one to deliver it. Mr Malfoy can be," Minerva paused, searching for the right word. " _Unpredictable_ in certain circumstances. This is sensitive information, as I'm sure you're aware. I had rather hoped to avoid another explosion in my office."

"Another explo-" Hermione's question was cut off once again.

"I think it's best if we leave it there, for now, Miss Granger." McGonagall rose from her seat, clearly dismissing Hermione.

"I, yes, alright," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "Thank you for your honesty, Professor."

Hermione left the office with more questions than she had started with. 

* * *

Draco was pacing their common room and running his hands through his hair. Hermione hadn't seen him looking so dishevelled for two years. 

"Draco, please calm down. I know it's unpleasant to hear, but -"

"No. _Unpleasant_ is not what this is. All my life, I have had my choices taken away from me - been forced in one direction or another. It doesn't ever end. My mother knows about us, by the way! And you - the one good thing in my life that I thought I had chosen for myself, turns out that again, I was wrong. The choice wasn't mine! My fucking strings have been pulled by someone else - _again!_ "

Hermione's mind was reeling. She was sitting on their sofa, watching him pace and throw things. He pulled at his tie and attempted to tug his hair right out of his head. She let him have his rant. She knew he needed it. She did, too, if she was honest. But he was doing a good enough job for both of them. She felt the pain and confusion rolling off of Draco, and she wanted to comfort him. Pull him close and nestle against his chest. Her thoughts wouldn't let her do that yet. 

_'My mother knows about us, by the way?' He's dropping this bomb - now?_

"Wait, Draco. Stop for just a minute. Did you just say that your _mother_ knows about us?"

"Yes. Apparently, we were not as subtle as we should have been at the ball. Both of us were missing at the same time. My eyes tracked your every move. Those godforsaken earrings that I insisted you wear. All of it - the biggest mistake I've ever made. I should have never given you that damned invitation - but no, I needed to be able to see you during the holidays. To see you in a pretty dress outside of this fucking castle, didn't I?" His breathing was laboured. Hermione thought it possible that Draco was having a panic attack. 

"Draco," Hermione commanded his attention. "Will you count to ten with me?"

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, will you? One, two, three..."

"Four, five, six," Draco continued, watching Hermione with exasperation. When he reached number ten, he let out a long breath and sat down quietly next to her. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"For what?" Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder and took his hand in hers. "I understand why you're upset, Malfoy. You feel like you had no choice in the matter - but listen. You told me weeks ago that you had been in love with me for years. McGonagall had nothing to do with _that_. What she did do was to orchestrate us spending a lot more time together than we would normally. And I know I probably shouldn't be, but I am glad that she did. If she hadn't, I wouldn't _know_ you. I wouldn't _have_ you, and I wouldn't _love_ you. And while I can admit that we are dysfunctional, I wouldn't trade you for anyone. Do you understand that, Malfoy? I was ignoring all of the things that felt wrong before - what the war did, made, created. But when I'm with you, I can't ignore it - and I don't need to. You're helping me heal. I hope I'm doing the same for you." Hermione smoothed his hair back to its usual style and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek. "Do you hear me?"

Draco grunted in response and held her tighter to his side.

"So. About your mother?" Hermione hinted. She didn't feel like the topic had been adequately covered.

"Yes," Draco sighed, heavily. "She danced around the subject, trying to get me to confess. She had already guessed before she _requested_ that I dance with you. I suppose that was another of her tests."

"What did she say when you were finally honest with her?"

"I don't think you want to talk about this, Granger," he said, shifting uncomfortably. When Hermione looked up at him, he was wearing a grimace on his face.

"That bad, huh? She hates me, doesn't think I'm good enough for you, right?"

"Actually, she thinks that you're a great match for me in every way but the one that counts. I won't be allowed to marry you, Hermione." He said it quietly, his face in his hands.

"Marry me?" Hermione squeaked, face red. "You're not even nineteen yet, why on God's green Earth is anyone talking about marriage? Shit! We're still in school. Merlin's blue bloody balls!"

Despite the situation, Hermione's last epitaph produced a chuckle from Draco. "Malfoy's tend to marry young. Most pure-bloods do. Can't tell you why, but usually we're all bonded by the time we're twenty-one. My mother has been thinking about and planning my wedding day since my first day at Hogwarts, Granger."

"Well, that's just - just _wrong_. What if you wanted to pursue further education? Start focusing on your career?" Hermione floundered. 

Getting married so young seemed absolutely preposterous to her. She had never once considered it, not with Ron and not with Draco. Marriage felt like something you shouldn't think too seriously about before you left school. Apparently in the Wizarding World, this was not the right point of view.

"Then you can do all of that once you're married, or at least engaged. Granger, you're missing the point. I will _not_ be allowed to marry _you_. There are things out of my control that will ensure that we cannot continue our relationship. That's why I fought so hard at the beginning, tried to make you hate me. No matter how badly I want you, I can't have you, not really. Not even when you want me too."

"So all this ‘protecting my reputation’ bullshit?"

"Smoke and mirrors. Truth, but still not _the_ truth. Not the real one, anyway."

"What are you trying to say to me, Draco?" Hermione held her breath. She could feel the panic start to set in. This was a dreadful conversation, and she wished she had listened to him and put it off. Hermione felt her insides start to bubble with anxiety as she looked at Draco’s face, sensing his next words.

"I've been instructed to end things with you." He didn’t look at her. Draco fixed his eyes on the fireplace in front of him and willed his voice steady. If he looked at her, he knew he would break.

Hermione slumped back in her seat. She had seen the conversation heading this way only a minute ago, but hearing it confirmed stung like hell. "And will you?"

"I don't want to. Believe me, Granger. I don’t want to," Draco choked out, hiding his face in his hands.

"But you will," Hermione said. It was no longer a question in her eyes or her heart. She felt the dead weight of it settle over her in what felt like a permanent way.

"I - just give me some time. I have some research to do, see if I can change things. Rewrite some history, that sort of thing," Draco finally looked at her, his eyes pleading. "Just some more time, Granger. That's all. Don't write me off just yet." He couldn’t do as his mother wanted, not yet. Hermione was the absolute best thing in his life. He would _not_ give her up without a fight.

"It rather feels like the opposite is happening," Hermione bent over and wiped the tears from her eyes. The panic she had felt earlier had not left her. It swirled around like an angry whirlpool in the pit of her stomach. She needed to do something - _anything_ to get back to calm waters."Let me help you. I - this is the sort of thing I am built for. Researching, problem-solving. I can help!"

"I'm sure you could, and when I get to the right place in my family history, I'll tell you, and we can work together. Agreed?" He turned to her and placed his hand on her knee, squeezing harder than he needed to.

"We have to make this work, Malfoy. I don't want to lose you. I don't know how you do it, but all it takes is just that one look you do-"

Draco lifted his right eyebrow slowly, lazily; a sexy smoulder.

"Yes, that one! And I run right back to you. Even when I know I should be saying _'fuck you'_. I could do without all of our fights, but I can't live without _you_ ," Hermione looked back at him, eyes still shining.

"Granger, you're like a drug that I'm addicted to, and I want you so bad - all of the _fucking_ the time, _all_ of you. You're stuck with me for now - I don’t want to let you go."

"For now," Hermione repeated, head back in her hands. "Until such a time as we can't figure out whatever it is we need to, and you have to marry some other witch!"

"Granger,” Draco stated, drawing her eyes to his face. “I promise you that I do not want anyone else. You are it for me! But I won’t lie to you - that is what is expected of me." Draco sat forward on the couch and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Burying his head in her curls, he breathed her in long and deep and decided that Jasmine was the sweetest scent in the world.

* * *

"Nott!" Draco called, jogging to catch up to his friend. They'd just finished their Quidditch training for the night, and Draco felt like maybe he could use some help with the Granger situation. 

Theo turned around, saw who had called him and came to a stop, letting Draco catch up. "Malfoy. What can I help you with?" He grinned.

"I was wondering if you might fancy a Firewhisky?"

"Sure. Why not? Your place again?"

"Actually, I'd prefer it if we could go somewhere neutral. Somewhere Granger won't be around to overhear."

"Oh?" Theo raised his eyebrows. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Something like that," Draco admitted. "I have an issue I could use your input on, and I'd also like to be distracted."

"Shall I ask some of the girls to put on a show for us? Parkinson is practically chomping at the bit to get one of us to notice her," Theo chuckled.

"Er, no thanks. Maybe we can meet at the boathouse?" Draco suggested instead. Seeing Pansy dance for him would not improve his mood in the slightest.

"That'd be freezing. Room of Requirement?" 

"Permanently destroyed by the Fiendfyre last year. Erm. Abandoned classroom thirty-four?"

"Done," Theo said. "And if we catch anyone getting naked in there, you can just give them detention and kick them out." Theo teased him with a wink. “Behold, the Almighty Head Boy!” Theo playfully bowed before Draco.

"Yes, so they can wonder why you and I need a private space. Let's just hope that there is no one there, alright?"

"See you in half an hour, Malfoy!"

* * *

Checking that the coast was clear, Draco opened the door to the agreed-upon classroom. It was mercifully empty. He found an empty jar, charmed a fire inside of it and settled down to wait for Theo. Draco was halfway through his first glass of Firewhisky when the door creaked open, and Theo stuck his head inside.

"There you are! I thought we were meeting in classroom twenty-four!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I said thirty-four, you idiot. Here, have a whisky."

"Don't mind if I do," Theo grinned. "So, what's going on? Did Granger stop putting out? She on your back about homework? She wants to take you home to meet mummy and daddy?"

Draco eyed Theo warily. "She's always on my back about homework, but no to the other two things. My mother found out about us, and she's pulled a cease and desist on me. Told me to break things off with her or -" Draco pulled his pointer finger across his throat, indicating to Theo that Hermione's life would be in danger.

"Fuck," Theo said, downing the contents of his glass. "What are you gonna do? You can't stay with her if her life is being threatened because of it, right? Who knew your mum would hate her that much?"

"Well, that's just it. It isn't my mother I need to be worried about."

"Your dad? Even from Azkaban?"

"Hmm," Draco murmured, swirling the whisky around in his glass before taking a sip. "The long-reaching arms of the corrupt. My father has his eyes, ears and wands everywhere."

"So, your mum just won't tell him, right?"

"Too late for that, I think. My mother isn't the only one who knows. She says Rodolphus picked up on things, too. Can't exactly stop him from sending an owl to my father. Curiously, my mother seemed to actually like Granger. If Hermione was a pure-blood, I expect my mother would already be planning the wedding."

"Indeed," Theo agreed, pouring himself another two fingers. "So, what do you need me for?"

"An honest opinion of what I should do. Another brain to ping ideas off. I don't want to end things with Granger - but I will if I can't find a way to keep her safe."

"So, what? You want to kill off anyone who dares to come near her?"

"If only it were that easy. I need to find ways around curses that are centuries old. Figure out how I can disable or break them. My ancestors were ready to do anything to keep our bloodline pure, even if we had to marry our cousins to do it," Draco shivered in distaste. 

"Riiiiiiiiight," Theo drawled swilling the liquor around in his glass. "And just how are you going to do that?"

"I have no idea," Draco confessed. "I think I'll need access to the restricted section of the library. I'm hoping that my Head Boy badge and a note from some unwitting professor - Michaels, it'll be him - will get me in. Then I'll be pouring through old pure-blood curses and phrasing. Probably some alchemy or runes involved. Merlin, help me! I’m also wondering what is left of your library after the Ministry raids? I believe that they left our family history alone, but I won’t be able to get my hands on any of that without raising suspicion. Do you think there is anything in the Nott collection that could help me?" _And damn if I’m not going to get McGonagall’s help on this, too. She’s the whole reason we’re in this fucking mess!_ Draco thought to himself.

"I’ll see what I can do, Malfoy. Wouldn't this be exactly the sort of thing Granger could help with?"

"Yes," Draco growled. "But I have no intention of telling her that her life is at stake because she wants to shag me,” Draco sighed. Just because Theo knew that he was head over heels, didn’t mean that he wanted to talk about it like some kind of romance novel. “If it comes to it, I will, but until then, I'll do what I can on my own."

"You're going to an awful lot of trouble for this skirt, Malfoy. You really do love her, don't you?"

"As we agreed in our last chat, I'm fucked. In my mind, if she's not right there beside me, I feel like I’m going crazy. These last couple of weeks made satisfaction feel like a distant memory. And when I saw her at that damn ball -"

"In that red dress? She was looking fiiiine. She is a gorgeous witch, Malfoy. I'll give you that. Smart and witty too, from what I've seen over the years."

"All that and more. And for some reason, she wants _me_. All I want to hear her say is "Are you mine?" So I can tell her without a doubt that I am - even if I can't be. She's _the_ great escape. When I'm with her, I lose track of time and space. She's the silver lining in all this fuckery," Draco drawled.

"Yeah, ok, mate. I got it. You love the girl. So what are we gonna do about it?" 

"Break some curses. Find a way to be free of fucking expectations. Get my uncle - and then my father off my back. What do you think? Am I crazy?"

"I think the premise is excellent - but it’s gonna be a shit tonne of work!" Theo lifted his glass, gazing through the contents at his friend. "Let's do this!" He saluted Draco. They both drank their tumblers dry, filled with a purpose and determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. My beautiful Beta would like me to expand on McGonagall's adventure. I am more than willing to do that - but not in this fic. How many of you would be interested in a mini McGonagall spin-off?
> 
> All of your comments & kudos are like warm hugs! Please send me your love!
> 
> Blank Space - Taylor Swift  
> All Falls Down - Alan Walker, Noah Cyrus & Juliander  
> R U Mine? - Artic Monkeys


	11. Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta thanks as always go to MissyJAnne85 for being overall awesome & just such a cheerleader! You work harder than I deserve!
> 
> THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to all you amazing commenters over the last few chapters. I ADORE you all! I get such warm fuzzies from hearing your thoughts! Thank you again!
> 
> Updated Spotify list can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=D2PAtuuWTcmEP3v57-QhSA).
> 
> You may or may not have noticed that I have now posted the chapter expectation of ALG. You are officially over the halfway mark at the end of this chapter. This could be subject to change as I am only a few chapters ahead of this one in writing & my Muse has added things before, but I have posted it because I don't think this is likely to change.
> 
> Trigger Warnings - I am letting you guys know now, ALG is going to start exploring some darker themes & the angst will be cranked up a notch in these next couple of chapters. I will list TW in the endnotes so as not to spoil the chapter. If you are sensitive to things of a darker nature, or bodily functions -I urge you to check there first!

__

_My Darling,_

_I have had a letter from your father. As I suspected, he has received word of your dalliance with Miss Granger. I imagine there is an owl on its way to you right now if you have not yet already received it._

Draco's eyes flicked to the next letter on the pile, his father's familiar scrawl etched across a thin envelope. A thicker, more mysterious one sat underneath that one. Draco used the top end of his fork to nudge his father's letter to the side. He didn't think it was something he particularly wanted to open. His eyes flicked back to the letter from his mother. 

_Draco, my Dragon, I implore you to do the right thing. You know that you have no future with her. We’ve discussed this - do not drag it out longer than you need to. The last thing we need is the Golden Girl's death on our hands. I beg you to think about this with your head rather than your heart. And darling, I_ will _be wanting my Grandmother’s earrings back._

_Your loving Mother._

Draco folded the letter back in half and returned to his omelette. What his mother didn't realise was that he _was_ thinking with his heart _and_ his head. He would find a way to break those curses. In the meantime, he just had to keep his father and his uncle well away from Granger. He eyed the other two letters sitting next to his breakfast plate. He desperately wanted to ignore them, knowing whatever they contained would be unpleasant. However, if he didn't open them, he would be armed with less information to keep Hermione safe. Was it potentially possible that his father might accidentally slip up and reveal some sort of clue in regards to the curses? Get the ball rolling on a train of thought that he had no idea his son wanted to crack? Knowing the chances were slim to none, Draco took a swig of coffee and fit his knife under the seal on the thin envelope, careless of the track of grease it left behind. 

_Don't be ridiculous, Draco. Is this your way of rebelling after the war?_

_I understand the temptation - she is, after all, a rare beauty, and you share a living space. Taste her flesh, Draco - if you must. But do not get addicted._

_Mudbloods do not become Malfoys._

That was all it said. Draco rolled his eyes and scrunched the parchment into a small ball. He should have known better than to think his father would actually be helpful or supportive. 

Tentatively, Draco picked up the last envelope. It was oddly shaped, lumpy even, and was weightier than your average letter. Draco pushed his plate away and opened this letter in the same manner as he had the previous two. The smell was the first thing he noticed; it was putrid. He held his breath and took a peek inside. Draco dropped the envelope on the table with a soft thud, stumbling backwards and nearly off of his seat. Several curious faces turned towards him; their noses pinched in distaste. 

Hidden within the thick folds of parchment was a decapitated rat. Reluctantly, Draco picked it up again and took a closer look. There was no letter in the envelope, but the inscription carved on the rat's body was message enough. _Mudblood._ Draco's breakfast turned over in his stomach, requesting immediate removal from his digestive system. 

He took a large gulp of his coffee, hoping that the action of swallowing would keep his stomach contents in place. He stood abruptly, collecting all of his morning mail and hurried from the Great Hall. He left the castle and took to the grounds. When he reached the black lake, he was shivering, but well hidden from prying eyes. He dropped this morning's correspondence to the floor, pointed his wand at it all and set it on fire. He thought that watching it all burn would calm his nerves, give him a feeling of control, but as he turned to the lake and lost his breakfast, he realised that he was wrong.

Draco wiped his mouth; the panic was far from gone. Rodolphus had made his move far quicker than Draco had ever anticipated. There was no question of it now. He had to end things with Hermione. The time he had asked of her was up before the clock had ever even started ticking. Her life was in danger in a far more real way than it had been before, with someone actively coming after her - because of him. His mother would get her wish. It was time to end things; for good. The game he had been playing was more dangerous than he had realised.

Trepidation and heaviness in his heart weighed him down as he made his way back to the castle, through its halls and up its stairs. When he staggered through the portrait hole of the Head dormitory and saw Hermione, he nearly lost his nerve. She was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. Textbooks, parchment, and ink pots surrounding her. Her hair was pulled high on top of her head, curls spread in every direction, and three quills stuck through the middle. He watched her searching the table, looking for something to write with. She blew out a frustrated breath, and thin curls flew back off of her face. He entered the room, and her face lit up. His heart shattered just a little more.

"Good morning," she said. "I didn't see you at breakfast. Everything alright?"

"Not really," he said. Draco took a seat on the sofa behind her, he plucked a quill from her hair and handed it to her. 

"Oh," she said, surprised. She reached up and patted the top of her head, extracting the other two quills with one or two sharp intakes of breath as they pulled on her locks. She turned around so that she could better see him. "What's happened?"

"I've had some mail from my mother, father, and my uncle. The time I asked you for, Hermione, it's over -"

"Like hell it is!" Hermione was on her feet in an instant. "Who the hell do they think they are? Dictating your life in this way?"

Draco pushed off the couch and slipped his hands over hers. She pulled away from him, choosing to stand a good distance away - out of arm's reach. 

"Let me know if I'm hearing this right - you got a letter from daddy dearest, and now our relationship is over?"

"Granger, it's not that simple. You don't understand -"

"Do _not_ patronise me, Draco Malfoy! I don't understand because you refuse to explain!" Hermione's voice was shrill as she tangled her hands in her hair. 

Draco watched on, feeling deflated. What was he supposed to do? Come out and tell her that he'd put her very life in danger by loving her? That was sure to go down a treat. He opted to stay silent on the matter. 

"Quite frankly, Malfoy, I am sick of this shit. I never know if we're coming or going. What makes me so different from you? My blood status? Is that what this is all about?"

"I -" Draco hesitated. The answer was yes. Because that was all his father and his uncle cared about, regardless of the fact that he didn't give two fucks about blood purity. It was all bullshit. Hermione had been proving that since their first year. But maybe, if she believed that, she'd hate him enough to let him go. "Yes," he finally said. "It's about blood status. You know I can't marry someone other than a pure-blood. My time with you has come to an end. Better now than later. It's already hard enough."

"I've got nothing left to lose, Malfoy - and _everything_ to prove! Do you think you're fooling me with these ugly words? I see right through you!"

"You have _everything_ to lose, Granger!" Draco was uncharacteristically pink around the neck and ears, his eyes slitted in rage. _Do not tell her about Rodolphus' message_ , he reminded himself. "Do you want to lose your parents again? Erase their memories, _again?_ Risk their stability, send them into hiding? You and I - we could run away, try and make a life somewhere away from all this shit, but what about everyone else in your life? We're just kids, for fucks sake. We need to stop and just let it go!"

"What's inside your head, Malfoy? What are you hiding from me?" Hermione demanded.

_For fucks sake, why did I have to go and fall in love with such a brilliantly clever witch? Evade, evade, evade!_

"Don't pretend that I've misled you, Granger! I told you from the very start that this was a bad idea, that we were fucking up! We knew that we messed up at the gala, and it's come to bite us on the arse!"

Hermione scoffed. "That was all your fault!"

"Believe me, I _know!_ I made all of the mistakes that night! You were - are - flawless. But let me assure you, Granger - this is quite serious! My mother, she - " Draco’s red face drained of all its colour. He swallowed. “She wants the earrings back.”

Hermione felt the incredulous laughter bubble up through her throat. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. "Seriously? That’s what is affecting you most, here? I'm not going to listen to you pretend to compromise with me, Draco. Your fucking flattery will get you nowhere! I can take care of myself. Haven't you learnt _anything_ from what we have already survived? It's time to change your family's views!"

"I have no control over that, Granger! There is nothing that I can do!" Draco threw his hands in the air and paced the room - his anxious habit. 

"Here we go again, another loop! We just go in circles! Maybe you're right - maybe this isn't worth it. I love you, Draco, but you just continue to hurt me. You’ve hurt me more than anyone ever has before. I'm over it, I'm just so _fucking over it!_ " Hermione swiped at the tears falling from her eyes and raced up her staircase to her bedroom.

Once safely sequestered in her bedroom, Hermione threw a locking charm at the door, then two more just to be on the safe side. She traced the length of her room, once, twice, three times until she came to a stop in front of her bed. Her thoughts were scattered, she could barely collect them above the screaming mantra of heart-shattering pain. Just two fucking days ago he had asked for time, and she had let herself hope, and dream of making it through. Apparently, she wasn't so bright after all! Hermione could feel her disappointment, hurt and rage crackling around her, her magic sparking to life. She heard something shatter, and something else splinter. Ignoring the sounds, she pulled her empty trunk out from under her bed and hoisted it onto the mattress. She flipped the latches open, lifted the lid and began to fling items of clothing into it, careless of what she was packing and how she was packing. 

When the trunk was full, and her wardrobe almost empty, Hermione flicked the fasteners down, pointed her wand and shrunk the suitcase until she could slide it into her pocket. Malfoy hadn't come knocking on her door. She hadn't even heard him follow her up the staircase. She moved to the door, stopping at the sight of her desk. The precious earrings were safely ensconced inside. She opened the drawer and retrieved the diamonds, wrapped in silk. She clutched them in her hand, squeezing tightly. She wanted to destroy them as badly as she had been. The diamonds did not budge in her grip. Of course, they didn’t. Something crashed loudly behind her, but she didn’t care enough to look. With a firm resolve in place, Hermione marched down her stairs and stopped by the sofa. He was still there, hadn’t moved an inch, it would seem. Hermione took one last look at the jewellery sitting in her right palm. He looked up at her, eyes glistening. Her heart stopped for just a moment before her fury returned, and she hurled the earrings at him. She didn’t wait to see where they landed before she fled the room. 

Draco plucked the diamonds off of his lap where they had fallen after hitting him on his chest. The silk had fluttered to the floor somewhere between him and where she had stood. The tears fell unbidden from his eyes. 

* * *

Hermione wound her way through the castle halls, glad that it was a Saturday and so many students were enjoying the snowy weather outside. She didn't encounter a single soul as she made her way up to the seventh floor and stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Oh, Hermione Granger, my dear! It's such a pleasure to see you! Head Girl, and all - not that I'm surprised. You so deserve it, my dear! What can I help you with today?"

Hermione looked up at the Fat Lady and wished she could bring herself to be polite, but she couldn't. "Devil's Snare," she said, refusing to look the portrait in the eye.

"Well, I never!" The Fat Lady replied, indignant. She swung outwards to allow Hermione entry to the Gryffindor common room, wondering at the scathing tone and cold expression of the Head Girl. 

To Hermione's immense relief, Ginny was sitting in her usual spot, curled in front of the fire, a butterbeer cradled in her hand. She smiled warmly when Hermione came into view. 

"Hermione! What are you doing all the way up here?" Neville appeared in her direct line of sight. "It's been ages since you were last in here! I was supposed to go and meet Luna, but I can let her know I'll be a little late," Neville blushed profusely, and Hermione tried in vain not to imagine Neville and Luna's limbs twisted together in uncomfortable ways. "How long will you be here for?"

_Please, Neville. I just need to get out of here. I’m about to fall apart._

"Oh, that's ok, Nev," Hermione patted his arm. "Go and catch up with Luna, I'll still be here when you get back. We can catch up then!"

"Alright then," Neville said, a winning smile on his face. "See you later, 'Mione!"

 _I just need to make it to somewhere quiet. Ginny, help!_ Hermione pleaded with her eyes. Even her thoughts were gasping for air, drowning in despair.

As Neville left, Ginny got to her feet and made her way up to her dormitory. She had overheard what Hermione had said to Neville and noticed what Neville failed to, the unmistakable track of tears on her friend's face. Hermione swallowed and followed her friend up to the girl's dorm.

"What's happened?" Ginny asked the moment the door swung shut behind Hermione.

Hermione produced her miniature trunk from her pocket and showed it to Ginny. "Got room for one more in here?" She asked, a sob escaping her throat.

"Oh no," Ginny said, rushing to Hermione's side and folding her into her warm embrace. Hermione sank to the floor still wrapped in Ginny's arms. They stayed there until Hermione's tears had dried, her breathing evened out, and Ginny's knees were dead. She refused to move until Hermione did.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ginny asked her, taking Hermione's luggage, setting it on a spare bed and enlarging it for her. Hermione took a seat next to her trunk, while Ginny sat on the bed opposite.

"I just feel like it's all too much. We're all still in school. It's too early to be talking about marriage, and laws, and expectations -"

Ginny sucked in a large breath. "'Mione, did Malfoy ask you to marry him?"

"Gods, no," Hermione shook her head and looked around for something to wipe her nose. Ginny conjured her a handkerchief and Hermione continued. "He's broken it off with me because he's not _allowed_ to marry me. Mummy and Daddy dearest forbid it. I jumped into this relationship wholeheartedly, never asking why - even when he warned me. When he kissed me for the first time, Gin, it - it was like I fell under his spell. I put him so high up in the sky, and now I feel like I'm ashes on the ground. I," Hermione paused to hiccup. "I'm sorry. I know I'm not making sense. I can't seem to get my thoughts in order."

"You're doing fine," Ginny assured her.

"He can never say that I was the one who walked away, though. Every time we have come up against an obstacle, it's him who runs. Oh Ginny, will I always want him? Even when it _hurts_ this much?" Hermione’s voice cracked when she talked about the hurt. Her eyes were gritty and swollen. Her voice strained, grappling to keep up with her muddled thoughts. She either spoke at great speed or struggled to get anything out at all, lost in her mind.

"I don't think I can answer that for you, 'Mione. That's something you'll need to discern for yourself - after you've had some time. You're saying he's broken up with you? Because his parents have asked him to? I call complete and utter bullshit on that. I've seen how he watches you when he thinks no one is looking. There's more to it than that, I'm sure."

"I'm sure of it, too. But he won't tell me any more than that. There are things in place to stop us from getting married _one day._ He won't tell me what they are or how to help. I don't even want to think about marriage yet. All I wanted was to break down his stupid fucking walls, and all he's done is _wreck_ me. I," Hermione stopped, shrugged and wiped the fresh tears from her eyes. 

"Thanks for letting me stay here, Gin. I don't think I can be in the same space as him for a while. Merlin only knows how I'll handle classes and Prefect duties. It's like, shit, if people knew we were together, then they could know that we'd broken up and it would be fine that I don't want to be anywhere near him. But at the same time, I feel like I've been ripped in two and if I could just get close enough to him, just his proximity would stitch me right back up. Shit, there goes my errant thoughts again. I think I'll just get unpacked, maybe put my head down on the pillow and cry again for a while. Oh no! I've forgotten my books! And my homework! And all my notes! Damn it all to hell, I have to go back!" Hermione stood from the bed.

"Like hell you do," Ginny said fiercely. "Give me the password and I'll go. I've got some words of my own for Draco Malfoy."

More tears slipped from Hermione’s exhausted eyes. “Wait a minute,” she said, conjuring an overnight bag. “For my books,” she explained. “They should fit if you shrink them.”

* * *

When Ginny gave Anne Boleyn the password, the witch didn't even blink. "Give him hell," she said, instead. Obviously, this was one portrait who paid far more attention than she'd admit. Ginny nodded in solidarity and stormed her way into the common room. 

Draco had only moved once in the last hour, and that was to gather the bottle of Firewhisky and a glass from their hidden shelf. He had poured himself two fat fingers worth and left it sitting on the coffee table, surrounded by Hermione's untouched studies. He looked up hopefully as Ginny entered the room, his face falling when he saw that she wasn't who he was expecting.

Ginny's indignant rage lessened to something more akin to pity as she took in his countenance. He was a mess. His clothing was crumpled, hair completely askew, angry red lines down his face; indicating that either he or Hermione had clawed at it. Ginny suspected the former. Hermione could certainly stand up for herself, but Ginny surmised that Draco's current state of dishevelment was self-inflicted. She eyed the still full glass of whisky on the desk, wondering just how much he'd had to drink.

"I haven't touched it," he said, catching her gaze. "Is she - is she alright?" He asked, pulling at the collar of his jumper.

"She looks about the same as you do," Ginny admitted, the fire returning to her voice. So what if Malfoy was clearly in as much pain as her best friend? He was the one inflicting it!

"You must think that I'm stupid," Draco said, picking up the tumbler and twisting his hand around it.

"I think that you're a fool," Ginny hissed. "Hermione is the best thing that could ever happen to you, Malfoy, and you're throwing her away. Don't give me this mummy and daddy pure-blood bullshit. We know there is more to it than that!"

Draco slumped back in his seat, finally sipping at his drink.”You wouldn’t understand, little Weaslette.” Draco considered the liquid in his glass before promptly draining it. The liquor burned on its way down, the sting feeling more than appropriate. Every fucking time he opened up, he was hurt. Its heat seeped through his cold bones. "I _can’t_ let her close ever again, even though she means the most to me."

Ginny sighed. She located a second glass, poured herself a finger and joined him on the couch. "She's tough, Malfoy, but every time you hurt her, the less she will cry. And every time you leave her, the quicker those tears will dry. She was ruthless in moving on from Ron. The war changed her. She doesn’t let herself wallow in pain. Every time you walk out on her - well, eventually she won’t allow herself to love you. You're a ferret, Malfoy, not a cat. You don't have nine lives here, and by my count, you're already down one or two. Figure this shit out and make it right. She'll be staying in the Gryffindor tower for the foreseeable future. I'm just here to collect the things she left behind." 

Ginny swallowed her drink in one gulp, the fire racing through her veins. Merlin, it wasn't even eleven o'clock in the morning yet. She gently placed the glass on the coffee table and started to gather the parchment and books. "Where else does she keep her homework and study materials?"

"In her bedroom, probably stacked high on her desk. She does most of her study up there, but sometimes brings things down here to work on by the fire. Or with me," he swallowed and ran a hand over his face.

"Right then," Ginny stood. She shrunk the pile down and placed it gently in the bag before making her way upstairs to Hermione's bedroom. It was a sight to be seen. Like someone had set off several of her brother's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Ron's room had never even looked this atrocious. Ginny set about fixing the broken vases. She gently closed the wardrobe doors and slid drawers back into place. She repaired the hangings on the four-poster and made the bed. Finally, she collected the rest of Hermione's many, many books, shrunk them down and added them to the rest in the bag.

She paused to look at Malfoy on her way out, still slumped on the sofa. He met her eyes.

"I know you think that I'm heartless, that I'm a self-centred prick and an arsehole. You're not entirely wrong, I suppose. But I'm doing this for her, not for me. I'm trying to protect her very being and her soul. She's better off without me."

"I know that's what you want to think, Malfoy. Maybe it's even true. But it's not what she wants. Not what you want either, by the looks of it. Quit making problems and start trying to solve them."

"Granger and I never stood a chance, Weasley. It's sad but it's true. By now Granger must think that I’m very good at giving up and quitting, but I'm just too good at goodbyes." The last was whispered as if he could barely bring himself to say it.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. Thinking and regarding him for what he was; a broken man. She left without another word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Death Threats, animal mutilation (rodent), vomit/ gagging
> 
> Song choices: Circles by Yours Truly, Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus & Too Good at Goodbyes by Sam Smith.
> 
> You might be pleased to know that I have agreed to write the McGonagall spin-off, but she will have to wait until ALG is done with posting, I'm afraid. I hope it will be worth the wait!
> 
> If you're new here, your comments & kudos feed my soul!!! Thank you for reading!


	12. Someone You Loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up guys, this one is a bumpy ride.
> 
> Alpha/ Beta love as always to my main squeeze MissyJAnne85 for pushing the pain levels up!
> 
> Check out this week's songs added to the Spotify Playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=YsY16cotTYuSAGNvy5v9sg).
> 
> No real trigger warnings apply this week - that I can think of. Please let me know if I have missed something as this is not my area of expertise - I am super willing to be educated here, please & thank you!

Draco felt like a living ghost. He could touch, see, smell, and hear, but he had lost any ability to taste or feel. Those sensations had walked right out of the door the moment Hermione had. 

The morning after she had left, Draco had woken to a pounding headache and an upset stomach that had nothing to do with the Firwhiskey he'd consumed. Once he had collected himself, he had scribbled a note to his mother. It had simply read:

_It's done. Call off the wolves._

He had wrapped the earrings carefully in the layer of silk. His fingers dancing along the diamonds, remembering how they had looked on Hermione, her hair pulled back and her gorgeous neck exposed. He recalled how badly he wanted to suck and bite that delectable skin and mark her as his for all to see. He remembered, and he locked the sight of her in that dress away in the depths of his heart, before wrapping the earrings more securely in parchment. Sealing the envelope, he'd given it to his Eagle Owl to carry back to his Mother. 

Draco was yet to hear anything back, and he could only assume that no news was good news. No more dead rats at the breakfast table was definitely good news in his book. The careful eye he kept on Hermione told him that she hadn't received anything upsetting in the mail, either. The Head's common room was a lonely place without her in it. Without her, and her books, her things and her _smell_. Draco avoided being there as much as possible. 

He traipsed the halls, spent extra hours in the library, flew rings around the Quidditch pitch until it was too dark and his eyes watered. He threw himself into research, stacking old books on top of more old books. Draco surrounded himself with scrolls that were written centuries ago. Theo helped where he could, procuring old tomes from his family library. Theo was more than willing to help Draco piss off his ancestors and bring a fresh perspective to a new generation of wizards. None of it helped. Draco was no closer to finding a solution now than he was four weeks ago when he had started. 

School raged on around him. Classes full of Granger. Prefects meetings and patrols - the scent of jasmine surrounded him. Haunted him. He wanted to inhale deeply and block his nose at the same time. 

He turned in his assignments on time, somehow managing to keep up with the study routine Hermione had created for him months ago. He would not be failing his way out of Hogwarts. He had no intention of adding one more disappointment to his list. 

Sleep seemed to evade him unless he had worked himself to the bone. His mind couldn't seem to switch off, and he'd wake in the middle of the night, turning to scratch another idea on some parchment. He had a full two feet of scribbles next to his bed of research ideas, all of them amounting to absolutely nothing. Nothing he had looked into had revealed any insights. It was maddening and Draco was clutching at straws. He hadn’t felt this lost, alone or distraught since he’d been tasked with a mission from the Dark Lord.

The week before Valentine's Day was a frenzy of red and pink. Flowers and chocolates were strewn about the castle as if there were something pretty to celebrate about love. As if love was a good thing. As if it could _heal_ you. Draco knew better. Love _destroyed_ you. It entered your life, filled you with inexplicable happiness, and then it ripped you to shreds. Couples who held hands or embraced in alcoves were everywhere. Secret admirers threw their caution to the wind and declared their love. Draco loathed it all. It made him feel physically ill.

Didn't these saps know that in the end there was nothing but horror and heartbreak? Heavy hearts, sleepless nights and cold sheets? Draco demanded that the pillowcases be left unwashed, he was savage with the House-Elves and threatened them, lest the smell of her leave his linen. Tired feet growing numb from pounding the cold stone floors night after night.

Valentine’s Day was a nightmare that he would have to live through. Each corner he turned presented him with new decorations or couples. Ridiculous recitations of poetry that cut into his flesh, reminding Draco just how painfully he missed her. Every fucking thing tormented him anew.

Draco watched her when he could. Those moments when the books could no longer hold his attention. When the professors droned on, or when he was supposed to be eating or taking notes. He watched her, and he thought that maybe sometimes she watched him, too. He saw her pain. But he also saw her love of learning. How she was able to lose herself in the books that she clutched. He saw her life start to carry her further and further away from him.

He saw, too, when the male population of the school started to notice that she was keeping her distance from him. He didn't know what they thought of it. Could they see it for what it was? A break-up? Or had they played their part better here at Hogwarts than they had on the last night of the twentieth century? Did the student body of Hogwarts assume that as his probationary period ended, so had any companionship with the two of them? He couldn't know - couldn't ask anyone. Couldn't do a damn thing about any of it. All he _could_ do was watch as winning the affections of Hermione Jean Granger, Brightest Witch of the Age, War Heroine and fucking perfect specimen of woman and witch became a competition again.

* * *

There was going to be a dance for Valentines Day. Apparently, the school faculty would take any excuse to celebrate these days. Anything for a bit of fun - an injection of optimism. Something to cheer the students up. Yeah, something that'd cheer you up if you hadn't recently had your heart ripped out and fed to the wolves. And what's worse was that he was supposed to be chaperoning it. With all of the other prefects. And the Head Girl. Someone should just go ahead and murder him right now because he was already in hell. 

“So, in conclusion, the Valentine’s Day Dance should be a breeze. I don’t see anyone trying to get up to too much mischief. Just keep your eyes and ears open. And for Merlin’s sake, don’t bring a date!” Hermione finished her address.

The Prefects had all nodded glumly, looking to Draco to see if he had anything to add. He did not. In fact, it appeared that Draco would rather be anywhere else, his nose turned up in the air as if there were a bad smell.

Hermione had just been about to dismiss the meeting when bloody Arlidge had rubbed further salt into the gaping wound. She had knocked once on the door before opening it and sticking her head through the gap.

“Oh good. Y’all are still here! I’ve just double-checked with the Headmistress and she has agreed that during the dance, you should all come dressed for the party. I think this will really help you blend in and the other students will relax - be able to have a good time without feeling watchful eyes on them!” The young American Professor grinned as if she had discovered a new defensive spell.

 _Just what I fucking need! As if this thing isn’t going to be enough of a fucking disaster, let’s all_ dress up _for it like your own personal fucking puppets. Fuck you, Arlidge. Piss off back to the States while you’re at it, and take that annoying fucking ‘Y’all’ with you._ Draco glared daggers at the intrusion and her suggestion. The other prefects had nodded along enthusiastically at the idea, seeing a chance to enjoy the festivities themselves. He studiously avoided looking at Hermione until he could escape from the room.

* * *

Hermione had thought things had been hard in those first few weeks without Draco by her side. She had been wrong. The longer she went without him, the bigger the pit in her stomach and the hole in her heart seemed to grow. Soon, she was sure they would swallow her whole. 

Now, thanks to her new favourite Professor, she was expected to get dressed up and attend a party. A party that Draco would also be attending. Not only was she expected to attend, but she was expected to have a good time, or at least _pretend_ like she was having a good time. She didn't even remember the last time she had had a proper shower. A _Scourgify_ seemed to be the only thing she had the energy for lately. In the first week, she had spent vast amounts of time sitting on the shower floor, the scalding hot water pelting her from above as the tears cascaded down her face. Saltwater mingling with freshwater before winding their way down the drain, and away from her. If only the current would drag her pain away with it. 

Hermione wished that she could say that the rest of January had passed in a blur. She was not so lucky. Every morning that Hermione woke up in the Gryffindor girls' dorm was a painful reminder that she was alone. 

Every class that she shared with Draco was a stab in the gut. Prefect's meetings twisted the knife in further. She was drowning in her own misery. Her studies were the only thing keeping her afloat. Hermione threw herself into the books with more gusto than usual. If studies were keeping her head above water, then she would throw all of her energy into them and damn her classmates to hell for looking at her as if she were possessed. 

Occasionally, her eyes would meet Draco's, as if seeking further torture. The appearance of pain registered in one another. Their eyes would wander, land, hesitate, and then flick away, always leaving Hermione feeling worse than she had before. He looked just possibly, as bad as she felt. His perfect hair, usually so pristine was unkempt. His neat and tidy clothes hung awkwardly in places as if they no longer fit. His eyes. His wonderful, deep silver-grey eyes were haunted. She wanted to comfort him, to ease his pain, but she could not approach him, _would not_ approach him, for fear of what she might do. Would she hex him, hit him, or kiss him? Until she could answer that question with certainty, the best thing she could do was to maintain the small amount of distance that they were granted. 

And so February arrived in a flurry of snow and Hermione wished that it would numb her heart as well as it had numbed her fingers.

Two nights ago, Hermione hadn't been able to sleep, so she had slipped her robes on, intending to patrol the corridors. She had just left the Gryffindor common room, turned right and ran straight into Draco. 

He'd apologised, explained it was his night for patrols and disappeared around the next available corner. But it _hadn't_ been his night for a patrol. Hermione knew this but checked the roster again the next morning anyway, on the off chance that she was wrong. So what had he been doing on the seventh floor of the castle at three in the morning? 

She had wanted to stop him, wanted to talk to him. Her heart reached out while her eyes just stared after him. His retreating form left the words caught in her throat. She needed to tell him that this all or nothing was driving her crazy. She needed to hold him, to be held by him. It wouldn't be easy to say, and things would never be the same, but she needed him back. She had liked the way he had numbed all her pain. Images tore through her mind, reminding her of the way he had loved her. 

Hermione wanted to know if all of his days bled into nightfall, too? Did he feel her absence as keenly as she felt his? She wanted to scream and yell at him some more. To tell him that she had let her guard down and he had pulled the rug out from under her - just as she was getting used to being someone he loved.

* * *

It was dumb, really, what he'd done. He'd woken up in the middle of the night and reached for her. He'd had a pleasant dream filled with memories of her. His first good dream in weeks, so he'd turned to pull her to him in his sleepy haze. His hands had closed on empty sheets. Draco's bed was devoid of her, and her smell had finally left the linen. He couldn't get back to sleep after that. So, he'd pulled some clothes on, laced up his shoes and stalked the halls, hoping to find trouble. He needed to take his mind off of her. Somehow, Draco ended up on the seventh floor, his feet subconsciously carrying him towards her. He had been completely unaware until he looked up and there she was. What had she been doing up in the middle of the night?

Draco had given her a lame excuse, sure that she'd see straight through him. He turned tail and walked away as swiftly and as gracefully as his legs would carry him. He made himself walk right back to his bedroom. No stopping. Foolishly, he was hoping for _and_ dreading the thought of her being just a few steps behind him. She wasn't, of course. She'd gone back to bed - where she was safe, he hoped. 

When he returned to the dormitory, he hesitated for just one moment before he started to smash things to the floor. This all or nothing way of loving had him barely existing and sleep was _impossible_ without her. It was killing him. He had more than liked the way she had helped him escape. Escape from his darker nature. Escape from his past. Escape from reality. He was just beginning to get used to being someone she loved, but it had all come crashing down around him now. As he surveyed the damage around him, he felt physically and emotionally drained, yet his mind still raced. He left the mess where it was and took himself to bed to stare at his ceiling for the next four hours.

* * *

Valentine’s Day was on a Monday this year. Mondays were possibly the worst days to have a party on, but heaven forbid they celebrate two days early! Breakfast was overwhelming for Hermione. Owls of assorted sizes and varieties dropped off various gifts, cluttering the table around her. Chocolates, cards, and flowers. She searched through them all, looking for a familiar elegant script. It wasn't there, but she did find one with another hand that she recognised. She tore the letter open, and dried rose petals fell out. She flicked them to the side impatiently and flipped the parchment open.

_'Mione,_

_I'm not sure if you want to hear from me or not, but I couldn't let Valentine's Day pass without writing to you. I have missed so many already. I couldn't bear to let another go by without letting you know what you mean to me._

_I told you that I'd stop fighting for you "for now". I know you need time to recover from the way that I hurt you. I understand that - but, I'm begging you now to remember what we had. Remember our love, 'Mione. We were great together, and I love you._

_I love you, Hermione Jean Granger. I'll spend every minute until my dying breath to show you just how much if you'll only let me._

_Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione._

_Love,_

_Ron._

Hermione sighed heavily. She refolded the parchment, slid it back into its envelope, and added it to the pile. She wanted to just throw the lot of them on the fire, but she knew she would open and read them all. Knowledge was power, after all. Even if it came in the form of a ridiculous Valentine's Day letter from someone whom she couldn't give two romantic figs.

Ron's letter was both surprising and unfortunate. Hermione had thought she'd been clear during their conversation at Christmas - that they were better off as friends. Ron either didn't remember or didn't _care_ to remember her words. Still, unwarranted as it was, her Valentine wishes managed to add a little spring in her step, acting like a little balm for her broken heart. Something about being wanted by someone - several someones, apparently - tended to make one feel good about one's self. 

The high that Hermione experienced from reading her Valentine's Day wishes was short-lived. None of them were from the person she really wanted or needed a card from. Instead, that person shot cold daggers at her every time she dared to look up from her textbook or breathe. If she wasn't chaperoning this damn party tonight, she'd have snuck in a flask of something to help her manage. Tonight, she would have to work closely with Draco for the first time in a month. Hermione was simultaneously sick and giddy at the thought. 

She wondered if she should reply to Ron. Tell him to stop hoping - that she'd well and truly moved on from him. She was more heavily heartbroken now than she had been at the beginning of the school year. Would her lack of response be fair to Ron? Probably not. But Hermione had made her thoughts on the matter clear to him. If he couldn't take the hint that silence granted, maybe it was better to leave things how they were. She still had hope that they could go back to being friends at some point in the not too distant future. It was possible that a reply from her right now would make that possibility blow up in her face. 

Besides all of that, she just didn't have the energy for it. She knew the symptoms of depression, knew that they were creeping in on her. Recognised them from her lonely existence the year before. Hermione did not want to lose herself in a harrowing pit of despair. She was bigger than this, stronger than this, smarter than this. She would not be brought down by a boy. Or so she kept telling herself. It was one thing to believe something, and quite another to make it happen. Depression, anxiety and other mental health issues were not something you could wish away with a stern thought, no matter how hard you tried. 

Hermione glided through her classes that day, dreading the evening. One hour after dinner, the Great Hall would be transformed, allowing students of all ages to celebrate this damn holiday. Logically, Hermione understood the need for bright, fun, and colourful things to create a positive feeling in this post-war climate. Emotionally, she wanted to tell them all to go to hell. Maybe she could use a skiving snack-box for the first time ever, and get out of this damn thing. Ginny wouldn't let her.

"'Mione, you need to get out of this funk. I know you're hurting and I know this sucks. Staying cooped up in this room, obsessively studying and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to make the pain go away."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend. Ginny seemed to be missing the point entirely.

Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, ok. I get it. Maybe a Valentine's Day party isn't the best choice of events to get out there, again, but I'm telling you, 'Mione. You need to shower, wash your hair and feel alive again. Even if it's just for a dumb school party that you have to chaperone. You can do this!"

Hermione sighed and slumped back on to her bed. The two girls were blissfully alone. Ginny's bunkmates had thankfully accepted Hermione's excuse about not being able to put up with "the ferret" for a minute longer now that she was no longer obliged to, but it would have been easier to let them all know that she was dying inside, her heart shrivelling with every moment that she was separated from him. How had he become so pivotal to her? That's what you get when you let your heart win, she thought bitterly. Sometimes, feelings and desires made no bloody sense. 

"Fine," Hermione had finally said. Ginny's face lit up in triumph. "But I'm going to need your help with an outfit. I am sure that I have exactly _nothing_ appropriate with me!"

"You've got yourself a deal," Ginny grinned.

Half an hour later, Hermione was back in the girl's common room, freshly showered for the first time in forever. Her hair hung in wet dregs around her face. Ginny clucked her tongue and set to work, drying and styling Hermione's hair. Adding a light makeup glamour, she showed Hermione the dress she had picked for her to wear that evening.

"I borrowed it from Parvati. You know pink isn't really my colour," Ginny explained. "Just pop it on, and we'll adjust it from there."

Hermione picked the low cut, frilly dress off of the bed. It was quite beautiful, really. But Hermione had no taste for it. It was something to be admired on someone else. Someone who was happy, beautiful, and comfortable in their own skin. Hermione hadn't been any of those things for weeks now. Ginny stared at Hermione, fire in her brown eyes until she buckled under the weight of the gaze. With a sigh, Hermione dropped her robe and slipped the dress up her body for Ginny to zip into place. 

"Nice knickers," Ginny grinned as she zipped Hermione into the dress. 

Hermione glanced down before she realised that she already had a dress on and had no hope of seeing what underwear she was wearing.

"Honestly, Gin. I don't even know what I pulled out of the drawer. Whatever was on top, I suppose." Hermione felt her cheeks redden. She honestly did _not_ know what underwear she had picked, but if she _had_ chosen what was on top, she knew that it was Draco's favourite set. The red lace that she was wearing when they were first together. Hermione left them at the front of her drawer for some ridiculous reason. More self-inflicted torture, probably. She took a deep, calming breath, and turned to Ginny for a final inspection.

"Curls in order, check. Makeup glamour in place, check. Gorgeous dress, check, check, double-check. Just slip your feet into these," Ginny handed Hermione a pair of sweet little pink kitten-heeled shoes, "and you'll be perfect!"

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione took the shoes from her friend and slipped them onto her feet. While Hermione was shorter than average and could easily pull off a pair of higher heels, she appreciated the stability that the one-inch heel provided. She'd be on her feet all night, so she might as well be comfortable. Ginny returned a moment later with her hair falling in soft waves around her face and wearing a short, powder blue dress with a pair of matching blue heels.

"Wow, Gin! You look amazing! Who are you so dressed up for?"

"Didn't I tell you that Harry was coming? He can't stay long because he has to get to the Academy again in the morning, but at least I'll get to see him on the most romantic day of the year!"

Hermione lifted her lips in an imitation of a smile. "That's lovely, Ginny. I hope you'll have a wonderful time together. Hopefully, he will save a dance for me," Hermione smiled, genuinely trying to be happy for her friend.

"I'm sure he will," Ginny grinned, patting Hermione's arm. "Come on, let's get this thing over with! And, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Just, at least try to have a good time, alright?"

"I'll try," Hermione promised. 

* * *

The party was absolutely miserable. Love song after love song blared from the magical gramophone. Apparently, Hogwarts hadn't bothered to organise a band for this event. Professor Michaels was stepping in as the DJ. The dance floor was full of girls, swaying in time to the music, their eyes dreamily focused on their Professor. Hermione smiled. Not that long ago, she might have been one of those girls. In her second year, she had been - with Professor Lockhart.

"How are you, Miss Granger?" Hermione started. She hadn't noticed Professor Arlidge approach her.

The American teacher was dressed far more formally tonight than Hermione had ever seen her. She was wearing a knee-length, black silk dress and black shoes. She looked lovely. 

"Oh, uh. Yes, alright, I suppose. I would rather be spending my time preparing for the N.E.W.T's, but the Head Girl must perform her duties as well," Hermione smiled congenially.

"No boyfriend - or girlfriend for that matter, to spend tonight with?"

Hermione cleared her throat, caught off guard by the question. "No, er. We broke up," she said eventually. "Just a -" Hermione had been about to say 'just a few weeks ago' but stopped just in time. She cleared her throat again. "Just before the start of the school year, actually."

"Oh, I could have sworn that -"

"Professor Arleege! You look absolootely radiant, tonight!" It was Professor Michaels. He had abandoned his station in the knick of time. His compliment was strongly affected by his French accent. Hermione felt herself blush on behalf of the other woman. Even if he was as dumb as a doorknob, Hermione could see that he knew how to use his charm. Silently, she wished the female professor good luck and slipped away before she could be questioned further.

Hermione flitted from one corner of the Great Hall to another. Keeping her eyes peeled for any trouble. It was obvious when Harry arrived at the dance. Suddenly the dance floor was empty, and another corner was filled, Harry likely trying to hide somewhere and being rather unsuccessful. Eventually, though, the crowd thinned out and returned to the festivities, allowing Harry and Ginny to enjoy themselves as normal teenagers in love should.

"Alright, 'Mione?" For the second time that night, Hermione jumped. Harry was standing behind her. _The next time someone comes up behind me, I'll hex them,_ she thought angrily. But she smiled for Harry, turning to hug him briefly. 

"Harry. How are you?" She greeted her friend.

"Good. Busy - tired, but good. The Academy is a really fascinating place, 'Mione. But I miss you. I wish you were there with us."

Hermione softened. Being away from Harry and Ron this year had felt akin to losing a limb. She had felt slightly off-kilter for months now without them by her side. She offered Harry a teary smile. "I've missed you, too." She said, reaching to pull him into another hug. 

"Oof," Harry cringed as she squeezed the air from his lungs. "Didn't mean to make you cry, 'Mione. Is everything alright?" He asked, pulling back to get a proper look at her face.

Hermione considered her options. Should she tell her best friend the truth or should she keep a promise to someone who had broken so many of his own? She bit her lip in contemplation and looked up at Harry. She shook her head, just slightly. "No, Harry, I'm not alright. But maybe someday soon I will be. I'm happy to see you, though, but you should get back to Ginny. She misses you dreadfully, you know. Most likely more than I do," Hermione offered him another small smile and tried to push him away in the direction of his girlfriend.

Harry clung on to her arm. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Oh, Harry. Sweet, sweet Harry. He was rubbing the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. He had no reason to know why Hermione was struggling tonight, but he was more than willing to sacrifice his precious time with Ginny to comfort her. Hermione was lucky to call him her friend. Hermione considered him for a moment. It would be nice to confess it all to him. Maybe his dislike for Malfoy would actually pep her up a little bit, but no, she wouldn't be selfish tonight. She would tell him another time.

Hermione shook her head again. "Go on," She gave him a little shove in Ginny’s direction. "Go and get your girl!"

She watched him walk away towards Ginny, casting nervous glances back over his shoulder at her. Hermione kept an encouraging smile on her face the whole time, and when she looked away from him, her eyes fell on Draco for the first time that night. He was watching her with an intensity that had her squeezing her thighs together, and clawing at her throat. It was warm in this room, far too warm, and she needed to be somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else. She looked down for just a moment, and when she looked back, he was gone. Suddenly the pressure on her chest was gone and she could breathe again. Cool oxygen flooded into her lungs and she felt the heat on her cheeks vanish as quickly as Draco had. 

"Hey Hermione, would you like to dance?" Zacharias Smith popped up in front of her, his smile goofy and his cheeks as red as hers had been just moments ago.

"Oh, uh. That's very kind of you, Zacharias, but I'm supposed to be chaperoning. Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid that I can't accept." 

Zacharias' face fell slightly before he responded. "No problem, just thought I'd ask."

Hermione watched him disappear back to his friends who clapped him on the back. Some were grinning while others looked sad for him. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and Hermione looked quickly away, finding someone else standing right in front of her.

"Hi, Hermione! How are you?"

"Hi, Dean! How are you?" Hermione was even more nervous to talk to Dean. She hadn't said more than two words to him since she had to cancel their second date. Their first date hadn't been anything spectacular, but at the time, she was trying to move on from Ron, and she'd wanted to give him a chance.

"Great, actually. Happy to finally be able to catch up with you. You've been busy lately!"

Hermione smiled, that was an understatement. She'd actually been suffocating lately, but she was glad that he hadn't noticed.

"So, I know you're technically on duty right now, so you probably can't dance, but maybe we can catch up at the after-party tonight?"

"After-party?" Hermione questioned. It was the first she'd heard of it.

"Uh, yeah. Held in the Slytherin dungeons. You didn't know? It's seventh and eighth years only, you know - all above age. Would you, er, like to come?"

Hermione had been just about to decline the invitation. She was already longing for her bed, but then she caught sight of a tall blonde head maneuvering through the crowd and thought that maybe she could use a drink. Or five. 

"You know what, Dean? I think I've been working hard enough lately. I could use a distraction," she smiled wickedly at him.

"Er, right, then!" Dean seemed genuinely surprised that she'd agreed. To be honest, so was she. "I'll meet you after the dance wraps up?"

"I have to stick around to do a final clean up," Hermione told him. "I'll just see you down there. I'm sure I can find my way," she smiled again. Softer this time. She didn't want Dean thinking that this was anything more than it was. A drink at a party with friends. She'd make sure that Ginny and Harry could go with her, too. 

"Er, right then. I guess I'll see you later!" Dean offered Hermione a winning smile. Dean was attractive, and if Hermione were even remotely interested in him, she was sure that smile would have caused an eruption of butterflies in her stomach. But she was not, and they did not. 

* * *

The dance was over with no more trouble than someone attempting to spike the pumpkin juice punch. Harry's arrival was definitely the most exciting thing to happen all night.

"Listen, guys," Hermione said, approaching Harry and Ginny just as the party was winding down. "I've just found out about an after-party held in the Slytherin dungeons. I was hoping that you would both come with me?"

"I have to get going, 'Mione, sorry," Harry bent and kissed Ginny lightly on the cheek, gripping her hand firmly in his. 

"I'll come with you, 'Mione. Beats going to bed alone!"

Hermione grinned at her friend, feeling appreciative and actually somewhat excited at the prospect of letting her hair down - figuratively speaking, of course. 

"Thanks for coming, Harry. It was great to see you, even briefly. I have to help pack the party up. Gin, I'll meet you outside in just a moment! I'll let you two say a proper goodbye."

Hermione hugged Harry briefly and turned to help clean up sticky floors, vanish fluffy decorations and send students back to their dormitories. Ten minutes later, she had waved her wand for the last time. Hermione had managed to stay well away from Malfoy for the entire party, and even on the opposite side of the room during the cleanup, she was feeling rather proud of that accomplishment.

Once McGonagall had dismissed them all, Hermione found Ginny just outside the hall. She linked their arms together, and they made their way down to the dungeons.

"Did you have a good time, then?" Ginny asked her.

"Morgana, no. What a dreadful party!"

"So why are you so chipper?" Ginny was clearly baffled.

"I'm looking forward to several strong drinks, and I'm hoping to forget my troubles for just a night. If there was ever a day to get drunk, I think Valentine's Day would be it," Hermione confided in her friend.

"Honestly, I'm just happy to see you with a smile on your face," Ginny confessed. "I should have dragged you to a party weeks ago."

The sound of music and laughter was getting clearer the further into the dungeons that they delved. Suddenly, they stumbled across bright lights, a sweet scent and pounding music coming from an enlarged cell. Hermione and Ginny grinned at the scene. Students were engaged in all sorts of sloppy behaviour. Dancing, drinking, kissing in the corners. Really, Hermione should have been deducting points and handing out detentions, but she couldn't bring herself to care. These were her friends, mostly, and her fellow survivors. She could let her guard down for one night.

She entered the cell with Ginny hot on her tail and moved immediately to the drinks station. She selected a bottle of Firewhisky and poured herself a healthy portion. Ginny did the same. They stood in a corner, drinking and observing the party for a while. It wasn't long before Hermione returned to the table to refresh her drink.

An hour later, Hermione could be found in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by several others. She was the life of the party, dancing, laughing and sloshing her drink all over herself. She'd regret it in the morning, but Ginny was willing to let her be. She knew that Hermione needed this. So what if she was getting a lot of attention from guys and girls alike. Hermione was single, she had no responsibilities tonight. Dean seemed to be particularly invested in getting her attention. Ginny had to hide her grin at that particular observation. She considered warning her ex that he had no chance, but this was more fun. Hermione was more than capable of taking care of herself, inebriated or not.

Ginny wasn't the only one noticing Hermione's popularity. Across the room, Theo was keeping a close eye on her. Draco had refused to come to the party earlier when Theo told him about it. Draco had considered changing his mind when he noticed Hermione heading in that direction but ultimately decided that staying away was the best decision he could make. But Theo was watching what was going down, and he did not agree. Hermione was getting messier by the moment, garnering attention from places he was sure she wouldn't like come morning. He waved his wand, casting a quick Patronus, gave it a message and watched it fly through the air, leaving a trail of silver in its wake. Several people admired it as it passed overhead before returning to their drinks.

Draco was tossing and turning in his bed. He couldn't shake the sight of Hermione from earlier. Her body wrapped tightly in that pink dress, her cleavage all but bursting through the neckline. Her gorgeous curls falling loosely around her shoulders. Greeting Potter and various other men throughout the night, looking for all the world like she was having a good time. Bitterly, he hoped that she was dying on the inside just as he was. Draco was missing her terribly tonight. He'd been on his own for long enough, and she was the only one who'd broken his walls and shown him how to love. Draco had told her once that she was like a drug to him - well now he was going through withdrawals. It felt like he was drowning tonight. He couldn't sleep, not until he had felt her touch. It seemed like he'd been lying awake for hours when the blinding light of a silver raven Patronus appeared in front of him. 

"Mate," it spoke in Theo's voice. "I know you thought it best you didn't come, but you need to get down here. Things are... Messy."

Draco had thrown the covers off and was pulling his party clothes back on before the Patronus had even stopped talking. It was more than enough motivation to get him stalking his way down through the castle halls and to the popular Slytherin party spot.

Dean had been successful in getting Hermione alone on the dance floor. His hands placed possessively on her hips as they swayed in time to the music.

"We never did get that second date, Hermione. I was sort of hoping we could make that happen," he said. He lifted one of his hands off of her hip to tuck an errant curl back behind her ear when he was violently knocked to the side. A towering platinum figure hovering over him.

"Don't you _fucking_ touch her," Draco snarled, his eyes dark and dangerous. His body towering over Deans, projecting an air of possessiveness. 

Somehow during all of this, Draco had taken a hold of Hermione's wrist and thrust her behind him, protecting her from the smaller man, as if Dean had been about to hurt her instead of simply asking her on a date.

The party went deathly quiet. The music ground to a stop and people stared as Draco bore down against the smaller Gryffindor. Dean had whipped out his wand and held it against the bigger man's chest, silently threatening him with spells unknown. In the end, spellwork wasn't necessary as Hermione wrenched her wrist out of Draco's grip, forcing everyone to focus on her instead.

"Stop it!" She bellowed, jabbing Malfoy in the chest when he turned to face her instead. Her finger bounced back off him, and it hurt, but she poked him again anyway. "You don't get to barge your way in here and act like some macho arsehole! I've got some breaking news for you, Malfoy. I'm capable of breaking hearts, too, and I learned it all from you!" She sniffed, feeling less affected by the alcohol, but still emboldened by it, she continued. "Bloody snake - pulling on my arm! You don't get to make decisions for me - and you _don't_ get to touch me, Malfoy, _not anymore!_ "

Distantly, Hermione was aware of the buzz building up in the room. People exchanging surprised glances and frenzied whispers of "Not anymore?" Hermione couldn't bring herself to care about any of it. This was the first time in weeks she'd been close to him, touched by him, spoken to him. Weeks of hating how she felt without him, and now he was here, standing in front of her, their eyes locked on one another, chests heaving with unchecked emotion. She wanted to kick him, punch him, spend all of her pent up aggression and rage on pummeling his body. She wanted to pull him to her and bury her face in his jumper, feel his hands running over her hair as he breathed in her in. 

"I'm all out of salt, Malfoy," Hermione hissed, the room quiet once more. "I've got no more tears to cry, and I'm not your woman. You saw to that. _You_ broke things off, not me!"

Theo joined them, placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Draco barely registered what it was. He was too busy reading Hermione's face. Longing to take her in his arms and help her bury all of the pain.

Theo's appearance had broken the spell for Hermione. She was suddenly very aware that she had the attention of every single person in the room. That she had bared her soul for all to see, that in their eyes, she was nothing more than another heartbroken teenage girl. She drew in a shuddering breath, turned and fled.

Ginny started after her but stopped briefly at Draco's side. "You're a fucking idiot," she told him before continuing after Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! You guys!!!! Look at the artwork that Talon Willow created for me, for this chapter! It's GORGEOUS! She is SO talented! I can NOT thank her enough - and MissyJAnne85 for putting her up to it! You're both just the best kind of human beings! Thank you!
> 
> Kudos & comments are always SUPER appreciated, I treasure them all! Thank you!
> 
> Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi  
> Blinding Lights - The Weekend  
> Salt - Ava Max
> 
> Cameo appearance from Paramore's - That's What You Get


	13. Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful readers! My gorgeous alpha/beta, MissyJAnne85 (thank you for your speedy work on this chapter, darling!) and I have come to a difficult conclusion. Next week will be the last time I update weekly for this year. I WILL still update & do not fear about the story going incomplete. THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN. I will likely update bi-weekly and will try to keep it to Wednesdays - but as the silly season approaches, I'm afraid that I can't make too many promises. I don't want to let you down. The change in updating schedule is due to several things - 1: the Silly Season. 2: My stupid arse likes to enter fests & challenges which all seem to ramp up at this time of year. 3: I've picked up more shifts at work and am now working twice as much as usual. 4: If you haven't seen me post elsewhere, or haven't noticed - A Losing Game is taking a dark turn & I'd rather not dump that all on you during Christmas & New Years. I hope you can understand and forgive me for this decision. 
> 
> As always, the [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=yQIveGOsT7i4mJRl1JFIFQ) has been updated with this week's songs, which can be found in the end notes.

The extra moment that Ginny had taken to tell Malfoy what an idiot he was, was all it took for her to lose Hermione in the Slytherin dungeons. She walked out of the cell and could see neither hide nor hair of her friend. Ginny retraced their steps, assuming that Hermione would head back to Gryffindor tower. She alternated between walking, jogging, and running. She went up and down corridors and flights of stairs. When she finally made it to the seventh floor and through the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't in the common room, the bedroom, or the bathroom. 

The castle was massive, of course, and Hermione could be literally anywhere - but Ginny had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew where Hermione had gone, and she didn't think it was in her best interest to be there. 

* * *

Hermione arrived on the fifth floor, standing in front of Anne Boleyn, not entirely sure what she was doing there. She was angry with Draco, wasn't she? She currently wanted nothing to do with him, right? So why was she standing in front of their dormitory, gaping like a fish because she didn't know the current password?

Anne stared at her expectantly. "He hasn't changed it," she informed her. "I think he was hoping you'd come back at some point."

Hermione felt the pressure lift off of her chest, and she could breathe again. Still, she hesitated in saying the password.

Anne smiled at her encouragingly, giving Hermione the little extra push that she needed to say, "Honeydukes." 

The portrait swung open, and Hermione stepped inside. She didn't know what she was expecting - that things would look completely different? _Feel_ completely different? Instead, it was like she had stepped into a time capsule. Everything was _exactly_ where she remembered it being, down to the last book. Hermione wasn't sure what was worse. To think that he had changed everything or to know that he hadn't. The air was thick and cloying with an expectation of something she didn't understand. She felt it like the tension in her shoulders. She should leave, she shouldn't be here. She needed to get out. She was making a mistake. Hermione turned, intending to flee out of the room and back to the safety of Gryffindor tower — but she was too late. Draco had come in and was watching her quietly, contemplating her near panic in a state of calm only he could achieve. 

They stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to move or speak. The silence stretched and stretched, and Hermione felt her skin start to itch. Finally, just as she was about to open her mouth, Draco spoke.

"I've been trying to keep my distance, but in that instance with Dean, I broke down. I know better than to want you, but I've tried, and I've tried. It's hopeless."

"Are you going to tell me more lies, Malfoy? Will you tell me pretty painted truths this time? Or will you just continue telling me everything and anything at all to keep me _away_ from you? Because you just keep pulling me under, and I feel like I'm constantly drowning in an ocean of you!" Hermione clapped back. She was on the defence, protecting her heart. Arms crossed over her chest and refusing to blink lest tears escape.

"Granger, you know that I can't tell you everything!"

"Can't or won't? I'm so tired of your _excuses!_ But when you bruise my ego, I stick around anyway. There's no point in trying to lie to me again because apparently, I'd rather be sinking than to go without you - which is _insane!_ " Hermione threw up her hands, frustrated. Clearly, no matter how badly they hurt each other, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't stay away from one another.

"These last few weeks, I've felt like I've been drowning without you, too, Granger. I know that I deserve it, but now it's like the water rising, and I'm too tired to keep on swimming. My lungs just can't take it, and I just want to breathe you in -"

"Malfoy," Hermione said, her voice low and warning. "Do not start something that you can't finish! I will _not_ do this dance again. I _can't_ do this again. If you hurt me one more time, I'll be finished. Do _not_ say these things if you are not willing to be completely honest with me, no matter the cost. If I break one more time, I will be too damaged to repair, do you hear me?"

Draco paced the room quickly. He didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep. He was damned to hell already, but she wasn't. Hermione was an angel, she was pure. He didn't want to drag her down there with him. But he was selfish, and he was in agony without her. Could he risk it all to be with her? Could he risk losing her? Could he risk knowing that she might die and it was all because of him? No, he couldn't. He couldn't do any of those things. But she was standing there, and she was looking so perfect. Her curls were a mess, her neck and cheeks red with frustration and other untold emotions. Her eyes were glistening orbs haloed by light. 

She was fucking perfect, and he couldn't resist her. Perhaps he could tell her the truth. Tell her the truth and then let her decide if loving him was worth her life? Was that selfish of him? Incredibly so. Was it the right thing to do by her? Maybe not, but she deserved the opportunity to make her own decisions. To make her own _informed_ decisions. 

Hermione watched him as he paced, keeping a good distance from her. She wanted to yell and scream at him some more, vent her frustrations and hurt. She wanted to wrap her little hands around his thick neck and squeeze until he heard her. Abruptly, he stopped moving. He looked up at her and spoke.

"I thought that I was doing the right thing. I should have been honest with you from the beginning, but I thought that it would be better to keep some things from you. Before you say anything; I _know_ — it feels like I am setting little fires deliberately, but I'm not. I swear, I'm not. But still, it's like I can't stop until I can taste the fucking smoke on my skin, on every treacherous part of me."

Hermione could hardly let herself hope. He'd let her down already so many times, but the look on his face now. It was open, honest, vulnerable. She couldn't stand any more, her knees were getting weak. She was tired and feeling the effects from the Firewhiskey, but she was also hyper-alert, her brain running a mile a minute and her heart not far behind. Sitting was the best option for her right now. She curled herself into a protective ball on the sofa. Their sofa. 

"So. Are you going to be honest with me? Fill in all of the missing puzzle pieces?"

Draco watched her, still unsure, she could tell. He had made up his mind, but he still doubted whether or not it was the right thing to do.

"I'll need your help. I haven't made any progress at all, Granger.” He thought of all of the books, manuscripts, and scrolls he’d been searching through. Then he thought of the letters from his parents - and the image of a decapitated rat flooded his mind. He knew he was rambling now, but the words were rushing to come out, to be heard, to be understood. “There's blood on my hands, as you already know. I don't want your blood on my hands, too, I - I couldn't live with it. You should probably just save yourself."

He was still standing very far away from her - by the bookshelf. As if coming too close to her would be physically painful. Maybe it would be, it had sure felt that way these last few weeks. 

"Save myself? My blood on your hands? What on earth are you talking about, Malfoy?"

And so he told her. He told her of the curses on his bloodline, how his ancestors had ensured that being a Malfoy would mean being a pure-blood, at any cost. Draco filled Hermione in on just why exactly his mother had wanted those earrings back, that they needed to stay in the family - how Hermione could _never be_ family because he was failing. He couldn't find a solution to the problem. Draco told her of his father's letter and of his specific words "Mudbloods don't become Malfoy's". 

And finally, finally, he told her of Rodolphus. He told her how his uncle had attended the New Years party, with the use of Polyjuice potion and how he was the _real_ threat. Of how he was just as insane as Bellatrix had ever been. He watched Hermione shudder at the name before he took a deep breath and continued. Draco described the threat he received in the mail the day that he broke up with her. The decapitated rat, with the word _'Mudblood'_ carved into its decaying flesh. He wept then, freely, his despair and panic for her life as fresh in his mind now as it had been then. 

Hermione's heart seized a hundred different times during his confession. All these secrets, all this darkness, and all this weight. He'd been carrying around this horrible knowledge for months on his own. She watched him cry, and it broke her heart all over again. This strong, intimidating, proud young man reduced to tears at the thought of loving and losing her. At the notion of his love for her being the _reason_ that he lost her. 

Hermione wept with him. Had anyone ever loved her so purely before? And she'd made it so _difficult_ for him. She had punished him for trying to keep her safe. Refusing to listen when he insisted that he was no good for her, that nothing could come of them being together. She had been _wrong_. She should have _listened_ to him from the start. Maybe if she'd just let things go at the beginning, neither of them would be in this living hell. But she was glad she hadn't. She regretted nothing. Hermione loved him more than she loved anyone else in her entire life. Without him, she was empty. He filled every crevice of hurt she had with something more than love, something more than magic, something more akin to destiny. 

Hermione let him keep his distance, even though it pained her to see him cry. He broke her, and he restored her. She was his in every way, and if loving him and being loved by him was a fight - well, it was one she intended to win. She wanted to wipe the tears from his face and kiss him until he no longer remembered who he was. But he was proud, and he would not want her pity. Swiping at her own face and clearing her throat, she spoke for the first time in what felt an eternity.

"You know,” she said wryly, “I think I kind of like the way you hate me sometimes.” Draco looked up at her in shock and breathed in sharply. Hermione wouldn’t let him speak though, “I kind of hate _you_ sometimes, too. Probably more than sometimes, if I'm honest. When you come and go, it's like my bones are breaking—"

"Take that back! I'd never hurt you like that!"

"I won't," Hermione huffed. "It's metaphorically true. It feels like you split me in half, and these last few weeks, I've been a shattered shell of myself. Surviving on pure will alone."

"Give me a moment, will you, Granger?" Draco asked. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned away from her. 

When he turned back around, he moved to join her at the other end of the couch. "Does this mean — are you cutting me loose?" He asked, his voice trembling. He spread his knees and let his face rest in the palms of his hands. 

"No, you idiot. That's not what I'm saying!"

Draco looked up at her with something like hope written all over his face. Could it be possible that she still wanted him, even though she knew the truth? That he'd continued to endanger her life even after he'd been made aware of the fact? That being with him now would almost certainly be a death sentence?

"Maybe - " Hermione hesitated, suddenly unsure of her words. "Maybe we should stay in the dark, at least for now. Become see-through, in a way?" Despite every fibre of her body no longer willing to hide her feelings, the thought of someone legitimately wishing her dead because of them, gave her a moment of pause. It seemed that keeping their relationship a secret might have actually been wise. 

Draco chuckled ironically. "Do you think that's possible after tonight? We've only gone and shown the entire upper two classes that we're more than just classmates and fellow Heads."

"Shit. I had forgotten about that. You're right. There's absolutely no way that I could move back in here, and people still believe that we're not together."

"You-you're saying that you're moving back in?" Draco asked. Desire, trepidation, and hope flitted across his face.

"I rather think this stupid experiment of being apart has run its course, don't you? It didn't work out for me. How was it for you?"

"Fucking miserable," he told her, not missing a beat.

Hermione couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped her. "Ok. So that settles it," she said. "I'll be moving back in. And we - what? We're back together? Publicly? Because I don't know how-"

Hermione wasn't able to continue her rant. Draco had used his snitch-seeking reflexes, reached over and had pulled her into his lap. He was unable to keep his hands off her any longer, and he pulled her down to meet him in a ferocious kiss. A kiss to make up for all the kisses they had missed out on this last month. A kiss that poured all of his loneliness out into the void, and filled himself with her instead. A kiss that bruised. A kiss that melted. A kiss that promised, and she lost herself in him. Their hands roamed each other's bodies, discovering and searching anew. Tongues clashing, teeth nipping, breaths hitching, hips rolling and grinding.

Draco pulled away from her, gasping for breath. "Are you sure?" He asked, silver eyes dark with need, still glossy and bloodshot from his earlier confession. Hermione thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. 

"Only if you're sure that you won't leave me again," Hermione replied, nipping at his bottom lip, and drawing blood. 

"Fuck," he swore, swiping at the bead of red. "Do you love me, or do you want me dead?"

"Push me away, or beg me to stay? Which is it, Malfoy?"

"The way you're looking at me, Granger. Either way, I'm not sure I'll make it out alive!"

“Which is it, Malfoy?” Hermione asked again, her voice savage as she rolled her hips against the bulge in his pants. “Tell me that you love me, that you’ll never leave me. Make me _believe_ you.”

Sucking air in through his teeth, he slipped his hands up her back and to the nape of her neck.

“I’ll _never_ leave you, Granger. Not until the day you send me away. You are my _everything_ ,” his breath hitched as Hermione dug her fingernails into the skin at the base of his skull. “I love everything that you are, everything that you do. Forgive me for being so stupid, _I love you, Hermione_.” Draco’s eyes were shining with sincerity.

His fervour almost unbalanced her. It was so unlike him to be so vulnerable. Hermione beamed at him and rested her forehead against his for a moment before she took his lips in hers once more. He kissed her back with a fervour that suggested that he didn't care if tonight was his last alive. Hermione moved her lips to Draco's neck, biting and sucking as she ground down against the straining erection in his pants. 

"Fuck," he swore again, hardly able to believe his luck. She was here with him again. After all the shit he put her through. She was grinding against him and sucking bruises on his neck, and he was _so_ fucking hard. "You fight so dirty, Granger, but you love so _sweet!_ " He rasped.

"You know how to talk pretty, Malfoy, but you’d better be careful because my heart has teeth." Hermione panted against his ear, her breath wet and needy against his neck. Her hands were sliding over his shoulders and her fingers winding through his hair. 

Draco growled as she moved on him. He was letting her take the reins, but damn it all to hell if he wasn't about to lose it while still in his pants. His hands had found their way to the zipper at the back of her ridiculously tight pink dress. Slowly he released her from its confines. The straps fell down her shoulders, and Hermione pushed him back roughly against the sofa.

Draco's eyes took in the sight of her in that gorgeous red lace, and he nearly came undone as Hermione slid the dress further down her torso. "You're a late-night Devil, Malfoy. Now put your hands on me," Hermione commanded him, her eyes wickedly alight. 

Draco did as he was told. His hands skating over her collarbone and trailing down until he held a breast in each hand. He squeezed them hard, rolling his thumbs over her nipples, the lace adding pleasant friction. Hermione arched into him. "Fuck," she moaned. "Draco, take me to your bedroom. Now!"

He didn't need telling twice. Draco grabbed her hips and lifted them both off the couch. Their lips crashed together again as he blindly made his way from the common room and carried her up his staircase. He all but blew his door off its hinges with his wand when they crested the landing. 

Draco dropped Hermione onto his bed, where she shimmied the borrowed dress the rest of the way off while he divested himself of his shirt, shoes and trousers. 

He leaned back down over her, relishing the feel of his skin on hers. He was right. She was like a drug to him, and right now, he was high.

“Fucking goddess,” he hissed against her stomach. Draco used his teeth to remove her thong, scraping his way down her thighs, relishing the taste of her skin as he went, his body responding to the sight of her in his favourite red lace. 

Hermione keened, restless for more. She didn't want to mess around with foreplay - not tonight. She needed him to fill her, stretch her wide and replace the pain in her chest with the delectable ache in her core. Her body had _missed_ him just as severely as her heart had.

Impatiently, Hermione laced her fingers through his. She gripped his hands and tugged. Her upper body strength didn't budge him even a little, but it was enough for him to understand her point. He didn't need to get her wet - she was dripping for him already. 

Hermione clawed at his back while he removed his boxer shorts, his mouth latching on to her right nipple and sucking hard through the lace. His tongue darted out, and he licked between her breasts salaciously as he thrust into her - hard.

Hermione cried out in pleasure and pain. He was a lot to take in with gentle ease. All at once — this was an entirely new ball game to Hermione. Incredibly, they'd never had aggressive, angry sex before. Before their sex had been intense — it had been passionate, but this was different — this was verging on violent. She decided that it was something she'd like more often. Her nails in his back dug deeper as her body tensed around him. "Fuck," she screamed, her breath caught somewhere in her throat. Her eyes locked on his. "Do that again," she demanded. 

Draco's eyes were like Lucifer's himself, his smirk one to rival the Prince of Darkness. He slid quickly back out of her and slammed back in again and again with a force she didn't recognise, but relished. Fuck, she was going to come, and soon. Her walls started to clench around him, her defences fluttering, her back arching off of the bed. 

"Not gonna be that easy, Granger," Draco snarled into her ear, picking her up and switching their positions. Hermione growled. She had been so close to climax, but with them sitting and her on top, he was hitting parts of her that he hadn't so far tonight. All the _right_ parts of her, and she was deliciously full of him. 

Hermione placed her hands on his shoulder and ground herself against him, rolling her hips just so, and making them both throw back their heads in ecstasy. With Draco's hands on her hips, he guided her up and down, setting a brutal pace. He buried his face in her tits which had spilled out of her bra, pleasured her sensitive nipples, and assisted her in riding them both to release. 

Hermione wound one of her hands through the hair at the back of his head, tugging for grip as her other hand travelled down between her legs, reaching for her clit. She rubbed her fingers across the sensitive bundle of nerves quickly as she bucked her hips and clenched down onto the maddeningly large dick inside of her. Her breathing became sharp and shallow.

"That's it, Granger," Draco murmured in her ear. "Come for me like the savage angel you are," he bit at her earlobe, and Hermione came undone around him. She shattered as he exploded inside of her. Their mutual orgasm earning them their collapse onto the bed in a tangled pile of limbs, Hermione’s sweat-dampened hair fanning out across Draco’s chest. 

They lay together quietly while their hearts returned to a normal, steady beat. Unable to comprehend that after all these weeks, they were back in each other's arms. Hermione felt like she might be dreaming. That was until she tried to move and her legs absolutely refused to go anywhere. The ache between her thighs was a delectable reminder that she was most definitely _not_ asleep. 

Instead, she rolled over and kissed him. She kissed him slowly, languidly, passionately. She showed him with a kiss all that she hadn't as they'd fucked. She showed him how much she loved him.

Finally, Hermione came up for air. She grinned against his mouth, sighing in contentment and relief. She had needed this. She had needed him. He was her catharsis. 

Draco grinned back, his heart light and alive, beating out of his chest. He rubbed his nose against hers playfully. "All these weeks, I've been unable to look away, mere seconds from begging you to stay."

Hermione nuzzled against his neck. "I wish you would have," she said. "Never, ever let me go again, alright?"

"Alright," Draco agreed, pulling her closer to him, he shifted their bodies so that he could lift the covers over them. He didn't plan on letting her go anywhere, and for the first time in a month, he slept soundly. 

* * *

Hermione woke with Draco still curled around her. It was ridiculously early, but they needed to talk before their classes started. She pressed back into him, pleased with the feeling of him wrapped around her once more. Her head pounded with uncertainty. Had she made the right decision in taking him back? She loved him and wanted him more than anyone else in her life. In the last six months, her world had slipped off its axis and now seemed to revolve around him. She hadn't forgotten the pain she'd suffered at his hands, and she certainly hadn't forgotten their day to day issues, but she needed to focus on what truly mattered; staying alive. 

Her life was at stake _again_. This ought to scare her, intimidate her, make her want to run for the hills. Was it a sign of how damaged she was that she wanted to cling to him now more than ever? Probably. She'd been chasing danger for the past seven and a half years. Now that the war was over, she'd unwittingly found a new thrill to pursue. She wondered briefly; if once the danger was over would she still want him? Yes, the answer would always be yes. She'd wanted him before she knew what the cost would be, she'd continue to want him once that price was paid. They would come through this, and they would come through it together. 

Draco started to stir behind her. Good thing, too. She had questions, but as she felt his cock twitching to life against her arse, she decided they could wait. They both had other needs. 

Hermione wriggled against him, gently bringing him out of his sleepy haze. She felt his smile against her neck as he lifted a hand to cup her breast. 

"Are you really here?" He asked. "I'm not dreaming again?"

So, he had dreamed of her, too. Of course, he had. Instead of answering, she turned in his arms and pressed a firm kiss to his lips.

"Convinced?" She inquired.

He shook his head, no. So she reached down and took his hardening length in her hand, stroking the velvety skin up and down.

"What about now?" She grinned against his lips.

"Only the real Hermione Granger knows how to do that," he grinned back. He peppered kisses over her face and down to her chest, his fingers making their own discoveries and finding her folds already slick with need. "Fuck, how do you get so wet so quickly?"

"I've missed you. _All_ of you!" Hermione gasped as he slowly dipped a finger inside of her. Her hand squeezed his dick a little bit harder as he stroked her on the inside. Draco curled his finger to the front and stroked her g-spot, eliciting a moan from her mouth and guaranteeing the bucking of her hips. 

Hermione released his cock to take his teasing fingers out of her cunt. She stroked him one last time as she lined him up just outside of her folds and eased him in. Slowly this time. Earlier she'd wanted to be fucked — but now she needed to be treasured, and Draco understood her cues perfectly. He slid slowly between her, gently filling her as his hands and mouth worshipped her body. Hermione hooked one of her legs over his hips, granting him deeper access. 

They took their time with each other, rediscovering all of the tiny details about one another. How Draco's breathing became ragged when she stroked her way down his spine. How Hermione's breath hitched in her throat when he kissed her behind her ear. When she squeezed his perfectly toned arse cheek, he’d growl deep in his throat, the vibrations sending scintillating shivers throughout her body. If he traced a light pattern against her inner thigh, she'd squeeze against him in the most delicious way. This morning they made love. It wasn't rushed, and it wasn't urgent. It was intrinsically beautiful. An unspoken promise weaved between them as their bodies moved as one. 

* * *

As they lay in the afterglow, limbs still locked and heartbeats evening out, Hermione dreaded her line of thought. She needed answers. She needed to make a plan, and she needed him to be brave enough to conquer it all with her.

Draco spoke before she had worked up the courage. "Tell me something, Granger. Do you ever turn your brain off?"

"Do you?" She quipped, lifting her head off of his chest to get a better look at him.

He chuckled. "Maybe only a fraction more than you do," he admitted. "Are you happy, right now? Or do you need more?" He asked, shifting his hips beneath her suggestively.

Hermione swatted his arm but grinned. "I'm happy right now, with you, in this moment, but Draco - I'm longing for change. We’re facing some pretty terrifying things, and I'm afraid — mostly about losing you again. Aren’t you tired of putting up a front? Making people think you are someone you’re not — someone you haven’t been for a long time? Don’t you want to show the world who you really are now? People who aren't Theo or me?"

"You want to go public, don't you? Properly public," He surmised, throwing his head back against the pillows, exasperated. 

"Well, like you said last night, we made a statement. If the whole school doesn't already know that we were _something_ , they will when I move back in. Because Draco, I _will_ be moving back in. I'm sick of hiding."

"Hiding can keep you safe, buy us some time! Be reasonable, Granger." 

"I don’t want to hide," she whispered furiously. "Not any more. No more _pretending_. I - it's all or nothing for me, Draco."

"And if it gets you killed?"

"Then I hope that one day you will find someone else who can make you happy," Hermione said flippantly.

Draco moved out from underneath her without warning. "We need to get ready for class," he said harshly. "I wonder if you'd be so cavalier about this if it were my life at stake instead of yours. I can't believe you're taking this so lightly!"

"I'm not taking it lightly!" Hermione argued, also slipping from the bed. She hoped to Morgana that she still had a uniform in her bedroom. "I want us to make a plan! I want us to be informed and prepared! We can do it, Draco. Don't you see? We can have it all! And we can do it in the open!"

Draco’s glare softened slightly. Still, he scoffed, gathering his things together for the bathroom. "Go and get some clothes, Granger. You might get your way today, but it'll be over my dead body that anyone else sees you like this!" He gestured towards her naked form.

Hermione bit her lip to hide the grin. He was coming around - she knew he was. 

She'd met him in the bathroom with a thought out resolution.

"We're already in the deep end, Malfoy. We’re at Hogwarts where they can’t hurt us," she said, joining him in the bath. He'd already filled it and mixed their scents into the water. She started to shampoo her hair, and as she scrubbed, he still hadn’t replied. 

"Your uncle and father — they can't reach us while we're at Hogwarts, right?"

Draco didn't stop to think before he answered. "Not in person, but potentially through someone loyal to them."

"Do you think that there is anyone in this school stupid enough to take either of us on?"

Draco thought about that one for a little bit longer. "That's a harder question, Granger. There are plenty of idiots in this school. However, if anyone did try to take us on, I can't imagine that they would best us."

"Right," Hermione agreed. "We still have three and a half months of school left -"

"Plus the Easter holidays. Did you plan to stay here that week?"

"We could, or we could make a plan and get the hell out of here."

"And your parents?" He watched her, wondering if this would be her breaking point.

Hermione shook her head. "If we're public, I'll contact Harry. Fuck it - I'll contact the Minister himself! Ask them to set something up for mum and dad. And while I'm at it, I'll fill Harry and Kingsley in on the death threat - let them know that Rodolphus is hanging around. I'm sure the Ministry would be grateful for that kind of information on a fugitive!"

Draco still looked sceptical, unwilling to take the risk. 

"We have three and a half months to figure this shit out, Malfoy," Hermione continued. "I'm confident that we can crack the curse in time. Then we will be ready to take on your uncle. Your father probably won't be too much of a problem after that, right? Locked up and all?"

"That is yet to be determined, Granger - but I agree, maybe this will be manageable." 

_Ah, there she is,_ he thought. There was Hermione Granger; the Golden Girl, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, the muggle-born who helped take down the Dark Lord. The girl who stood up to her would-be oppressor and helped her friends take him down, the girl who stood for the light, and shined so brightly in it. Here was the fighter he knew she could be. As he watched Hermione realise that he was agreeing, he couldn't help the small smile that escaped him. Her eyes were lit from within, and her grin was priceless. 

"So - we're doing this, then?"

"We're doing this," he agreed.

Hermione sloshed through the water and into his arms, kissing him with wild abandon.

* * *

Mercifully, Hermione had found a pair of school pants and a blouse in a drawer. She borrowed a tie, robe and more awkwardly a pair of shoes from Draco, transfiguring them all to the appropriate colours and shrinking them to her size. 

Together they walked hand in hand through the halls of Hogwarts, hushed whispers following them as they went. Hermione studiously ignored them, tugging on Draco's hand, and drawing his eyes to her whenever she felt him tense up or reach for his wand. Each time, he'd look down at her, see her smile and visibly relax. 

As they reached the Great Hall, Hermione felt suddenly unsure. There were a lot of people in there, and she'd have to let go of his hand so that they could go their separate ways.

This time it was Draco who squeezed her reassuringly. "Come on, Gryffindor. Where's that famous bravery now?” She straightened her spine in response, and he smirked at her. “There’s my savage angel," he encouraged, and together they entered the dining hall.

It felt like the whole school turned and watched them enter, silence radiated through the room. It had never, ever been this quiet in here before, Hermione was sure of it. Somewhere in the hall, someone dropped a fork on their plate. Up on the dais, where the Professors sat, Hermione caught Professor McGonagall's eye. The Headmistress winked at her. 

In the three seconds that all of this happened in, Hermione wasn't sure if she could blush any harder. Still holding her hand, Draco used the other to tuck a curl behind her ear, his palm resting on her cheek. Draco’s eyes lingered on hers, something close to mischief written in their depths. Hermione dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, anticipation swirling deep in her belly. He dropped her hand and took her face in both of his, dipping down he pressed his lips firmly, sweetly against hers, just for a moment. A moment that felt like an eternity, but still wasn’t long enough.

Someone over at the Slytherin table let loose a cat-call. Yet another from Ravenclaw whooped loudly. He broke away when an unfamiliar fifth year at the Gryffindor table complained to her boyfriend, “Why don’t you ever kiss _me_ like that?” Which was met with several chuckles.

Draco released her with a smirk and strode confidently over to the Slytherin table to take his seat next to Theo, who Hermione suspected responsible for the wolf whistle. Most mortifying, yet satisfying of all, a group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs had started to applaud as she made her way to Gryffindor table. Biting her lip in delight, a slight spring in her step, and her face on fire, Hermione mentally prepared herself to face the question-firing squad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos & Comments give me all the feels! If you're reading & enjoying, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> This week's songs are:
> 
> Drown - Martin Garrix ft. Clinton Kane  
> Hate Me (Sometimes) - Stand Atlantic  
> Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer  
> Shallow - Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper


	14. The Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [MissyJAnne85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyJAnne85/pseuds/MissyJAnne85/works) and I have some SUPER exciting news to share, friends. Our little Alphabet is now complete! We are absolutely THRILLED to introduce you to [CaitlinCheri28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitlincheri28/pseuds/Caitlincheri28/works). Behind the scenes of ALG, I have been helping Missy with a project that I will start plugging very soon - posting in the New Year. We are very lucky to have met the gorgeous Caitlin and are pleased to tell you that we will be assisting her with her first multi-chap, which we have just begun work on. Caitlin has also put her own little stamp on this chapter & will continue to do so from here on out! Aside from getting on like a house on fire, we work very well together and our quickly finding our feet within our brand new Alphabet! Please help Missy & I welcome Caitlin into our world of crazy! You can follow my links to their accounts to find both of their current works.
> 
> Ok guys & gals - back to ALG! Just a gentle reminder that after today, I will be posting bi-weekly & TRYING to keep it to Wednesdays!
> 
> As always, the chapter songs will be listed in the endnotes & you can find the updated Spotify playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=KQBzSgbpQzyTtWCYfMVChQ).
> 
> Chapter TW: Soft mention of suicide in this one, my dears.

In the weeks following Valentine's Day, Hermione was the happiest she had been for a while, and also the most stressed. Happy because she was back with Draco. Free to hold his hand in public. She was no longer lying to the vast majority of people in her life. She had written letters to her parents, to Harry and Ron. 

Her mother's reply had been eloquent. They were happy that their daughter was happy, but they sure had some questions about Hermione dating the boy that used to torment her. Her father was particularly unimpressed that they would have to be dealing with the Ministry of Magic to put extra safety protocols in place. This time around, they had all of the information and would be kept up-to-date by both Hermione and the Auror’s department in the DMLE. Hermione had sworn to her parents and herself that she would never use magic on them again without their express permission. She had also sworn to never lie to them about her circumstances or to hide what was happening in her Magical World. So, while they were pleased that she had found someone, they must have been questioning her judgement — which was more than understandable in Hermione's opinion. It would take a lot of correspondence to get through this one.

Harry had written back. He told her that he was glad that she had moved on from Ron, that she'd found some happiness — but why the _fuck_ did it need to be with Malfoy? Hermione had sighed, she'd hoped for better, but expected less. Hopefully, with time, Harry would see all the good things about Draco and leave their past where it belonged, as she had. On the upside, Harry had agreed to coordinate with Kingsley to conduct the Fidelius charm on Hermione's parents' home. Knowing that her parents were safe was a huge sigh of relief for Hermione. Harry would also help with protective enchantments for when her parents were outside of the home. There would be an Auror on duty, hidden at all times, just in case Rodolphus showed his face. It turned out that the Auror's Dept. was more than interested in finding the location of Rodolphus Lestrange. It wasn't perfect, but Hermione hoped that it would be deterrent enough.

From Ron, Hermione had heard absolutely nothing. She had broken the news to him as gently as she could. She had ruined the crisp parchment with several teardrops as she wrote, but decided against starting again. Maybe some of the ink was blotchy, but he'd know she'd written with sincerity. Maybe one day soon, she'd hear back. Until then, she wouldn't force the matter. 

The other stress in her life was coming from more obvious things. Finding a solution to cracking the damn Malfoy curse was at the top of her priority list. Despite what she'd said in her first year to Harry and Ron, death was not second to her schooling. She'd learned that the hard way over the last few years. That's not to say that she was neglecting her studies, oh no. She had drawn up a strict time table for both her and Draco to follow. It included classes, meal times, N.E.W.T preparations, curse-breaking, and every little thing down to allotted hours for sleeping and bathroom use. She had taken things as far as she could with the hope that they would get to the end of their school year alive, above passing grades, and with the ability to continue their relationship on their own terms. She was Hermione Jean Granger, and nobody stood in her way, dammit.

It was one such curse-breaking session that she was engaged in with Draco and Theo where Draco threw his quill down, tipped his inkpot over and violently started to pace the room. Hermione and Theo exchanged a look. They had become fast friends over the last two weeks, much to Draco's disdain. 

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Theo asked his friend, watching the way that Draco wore holes in the floor.

Draco ignored him — which was probably for the best. 

"Did you find something?" Hermione asked with a squeak. They very rarely found information worth pursuing, but Draco's reaction tonight was more intense than it had been before. It definitely spoke negatively to Hermione.

"No, I didn't find anything. Not a _damn_ single thing. We've been at this for too long, Granger! We're never going to find an answer locked away in these books. We _need_ to be at the Manor. Look through its libraries, feel the magic in our bones. We are getting absolutely fucking _nowhere_ like this!"

"Well, what do you suggest? That we just Floo back to your house right now?” Hermione snapped, just as frustrated as he was. “Waltz in through the fireplace and tell your mother that we just need a few weeks alone with the dark magic of your ancestors?"

"I think I'm just gonna go, guys. I - I'll catch up with you later," Theo said, hastily collecting his notes and easing towards the door.

Neither Hermione nor Draco paid him any mind. They were solely focused on each other.

"Of course, not! You might as well sign your suicide note now! We have no _fucking_ clue where my uncle is! He might be lurking around any corner. We can't leave the safety of this castle!" Draco seethed, throwing his hands in the air. His pacing increased in intensity.

"Then what do you _fucking_ suggest, Malfoy? Because if you don't want to stick to _these_ books, _we're running out of options!_ "

Draco's eyes darted back and forth as if he could find the answer somewhere in that room if only he looked hard enough. Hermione approached him quietly. She took his hand, waking him from his dark thoughts. Eventually, his eyes softened, and together they returned to the sofa. 

"I’m sorry," he apologised. "It's just so fucking _frustrating_. We haven't found any clues yet, and I feel like I’m failing you."

Hermione sensed a need for distraction, something that would take their minds away from studies, scrolls, notes and curses — if only for a little while. Maybe they could take some time to have a decent conversation for once.

"I know — but you’re not failing me. We’re in this together, of course, I forgive you. Should we talk about something else for a while? Take our minds off of this for just a bit?" She asked with a cheeky grin on her face despite the seriousness of her words.

He sighed, leaning back into the cushions, hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. Hermione snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. Absently, he played with her curls. 

Draco was silent for a few minutes, twisting ringlets around his fingers and releasing them. "I'm sorry for all of it, you know."

"Hmm? All of what?"

Draco was staring off into the fire, lost in his memories. "I don't know why I did the things that I did, said the things that I said."

Baffled, Hermione shifted her head so that she could stare up at his face. 

"I —” Draco stopped, and cleared his throat. Taking a deep breath, he tried to start again — to process and explain what he was feeling. “I used to want to hurt you, to try and make you cry. I was a stupid, arrogant little arsehole, and I'm sorry."

They'd never really discussed their past before. "Thank you," Hermione said, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. She hadn't expected or anticipated this conversation in the midst of all the chaos. 

"Last month, when I -" Draco stopped, his words caught in his throat. "When you walked out of the door, I told myself that I couldn't care. That I was doing the right thing for both of us - but it felt like I'd lost everything then and there. If I could turn back time, if I could find a way — Granger, you know that I'd take it all back. All the words that hurt you. Perhaps if I had done that, you'd have stayed."

Hermione gazed up at him, watching the emotion flicker over his face. One of her most favourite things about knowing him like this was that he willingly let his guard down. He trusted her with his vulnerability. He didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't when he was with her. The knowledge that gave her was heady. He trusted her implicitly. 

Draco watched her face with half-lidded eyes for just a moment before continuing. The look on his face was the epitome of determination. "We're going to make this work, Granger. We will find a way to get through all this bullshit. I'll bring the world crashing down around us if I have to. If I could reach the stars, I'd give them all to you — you know that, right? I'll stop at nothing to make you happy, and I swear I will live to the end of my days trying to deserve you if you'll let me."

What could she say in response to any of that? This gorgeous, broken, brilliant, sexy, arrogant arse of a man was willing to burn the Earth down around them to find a way for them to be together. Her heart was hammering, and she thought she might burst from the feel of it.

"I love you too, Draco Malfoy," she said and met his lips in a hot and needy kiss. 

When they broke apart, Draco rested his forehead on hers and smiled. 

"Come on, Bookworm. We have work to do."

"Hey, where did Theo go?"

* * *

Hermione followed her schedule to the T. She needed to get through all of the things on the list. The schedule gave her a sense of control over her life — the planning and the execution. Crossing items off the list gave her a sense of accomplishment and the feeling that maybe if she could get through all of this; then what was to come would be so much easier. So, she studied and revised for her classes for her N.E.W.T preparations, she scanned, copied notes and read through piles of ancient textbooks on curse breaking and pure-blood traditions. She had even scheduled time with Ginny and Luna, accepting her need to relax and have some downtime — every now and then.

Her classes were starting to pile up on her, and she longed for the days when she had a time turner. If she'd have known about all of her extracurriculars this year, she might not have signed up for quite so many classes. Then again, if she was truly honest with herself, she probably would have. 

Hermione was on hour five of exam preparations when Draco arrived back in the common room from Quidditch training. Merlin, the way that uniform clung to his body was distracting. He was like a sculpture straight out of Michelangelo's portfolio - only bigger — in all areas. Hermione's mouth went dry as he approached her. 

Clearing her throat, she asked instead, "Good practice session?"

"Better now that the snow is calming down," he replied. "I feel a bit useless out there, though. Knowing you're in here getting as much done as you can."

"Hey, you have your vices, and I'll have mine. Quidditch is a good outlet for you. I'd hate to think where all your pent up aggression would go if you couldn't get out there on your broom."

"Granger, I think you're perfectly capable of guessing just where all that extra energy would go," Draco quirked his right eyebrow, _knowing_ the effect it would have on her.

 _Arse,_ she thought, her organs turning to jelly on the spot. 

"You're not playing fair," she said, sticking out her tongue. "Go and check the schedule, and see what you're supposed to be doing!"

Draco wandered over to where the schedule Hermione had drawn up. It shimmered against the wall. 

"Hmm, that's strange. It says that I am supposed to be kissing my girlfriend. I don't remember that being part of the itinerary," Draco shot her a playful wink to go with his signature smirk.

"Well," Hermione said. "I don't think I remember writing that, but if that's what the schedule suggests you should be doing, I think you'd better follow it," she grinned devilishly.

"Right you are, Granger!" Draco dropped his broom to scoop Hermione into his arms.

Draco twirled her around once before setting her down and fixing his lips to hers. His hands cupped her face as his fingers tangled in her hair. Hermione melted against his chest, lost in the feeling of him. After several moments, Draco pulled away. 

"I think we should continue this in a shower stall, don't you?"

"I don't know," Hermione pulled at her swollen bottom lip with her teeth. "I'm just starting to really hit my stride in this Charms revision!" She frowned, but her eyes were glittering with mirth. 

Draco growled by way of response, lifting her off the ground until her legs wrapped around his waist for support. 

"Here's some Charms revision," he said, peeling her cardigan back off of her shoulders. "I'll show you just how my charms work, Granger. Will that be satisfactory?"

"I'm not sure if the anatomy of Draco Malfoy will come up in a N.E.W.T, but it doesn't hurt to cover all bases," Hermione grinned against his mouth. 

"Huh," Draco pondered. "You mean to tell me that all the things that make you moan won't come up in the exams? Hmm, I guess I've been studying for nothing, then!"

Hermione swatted at his arm as he carried her towards the bathroom. He bypassed the large bath in favour of the showers. Hemione hummed in delight. They'd never shared a shower stall before — this was something new and exciting. 

Draco dropped her down at the entry point to a shower stall and turned the taps on to the perfect temperature _for him._ Hermione frowned and turned it warmer, then warmer again.

"Perfect," she hummed. 

Draco wasn't quite so sure, as he tested the temperature and hissed. 

"Don’t you trust I’ll get you hot enough, Granger?" he asked, adjusting it back down a few degrees. Hermione pouted but allowed him to make the adjustments. Draco started to peel his uniform off of his body, and suddenly water temperatures were the last thing on her mind. 

Hermione imitated his actions and shucked the clothes from her body with haste. 

They met again under the warm stream of the shower. Hermione watched as the water dripped down Draco's body, little cascades and waterfalls forming of their own volition on his dips and curves. She licked her lips in anticipation. 

Draco fitted his forefinger under Hermione's chin and tilted her head up to meet his lips in a kiss. He let the warm water cascade down around them until Hermione's hair was a soaking mess around her shoulders. She was a goddess in his eyes, and he wanted to treat her as such. Draco pumped some jasmine body wash on to his bare hands and lathered them up. He would worship her body as he washed it. He started at the back of her neck, gliding his hands down over her shoulders to her back. He slid his hands over her hips and around to her flat stomach, pulling her tightly back against his chest as he did so. Hermione nearly slipped on the tile, but Draco held her securely in place as his hands explored higher up her body. He fit his palms around the soft mounds of her breasts, paying extra attention to her nipples, his thumbs flicking back and forth until they were hard nubs under his touch. 

Hermione was panting for more, she leaned further into his embrace, her nerves came to life under his expert touch, her skin singing as his hands passed over her. She needed more. She needed _him_. Hermione pushed away from her lover and pumped his body wash onto her hands, ready to repeat the same agonisingly slow process he had started on her.

She took her time, letting her hands run over the hardened muscles of his arms, shoulders and chest. She erotically caressed all of his familiar thin scars, one by one with the tip of her finger, adoring the body she had come to know as well as her own. Draco shivered under her touch, despite the warm water. He watched her intensely, his eyes dark as he cupped her arse cheeks between his hands. He'd never let her go again. Hermione Granger was the absolute best thing in his life, and he'd die before he let anything happen to her. He watched her with fascination and desire, little drops and rivers of water running freely over her, washing the soap suds away. 

But then she dropped to her knees and began to wash his legs. She considered each of his legs and carefully washed them one by one, making her way _almost_ to the junction between his thighs, before teasing him and starting the process again. She grinned up at him, her eyes alight with humour as his already hard cock jumped at her touch. Of all the times that he'd buried his head between her legs, she'd yet to do the same for him. Not because she hadn't wanted to, but because he'd never given her the chance. He always wanted to take care of her, needing her to be satisfied at least once before he sought out his own pleasure. All other occasions the need had been too great, and they skipped foreplay completely. Their need and desire to lose themselves in each other was all-consuming. 

Hermione had the devil in her eyes as she took his throbbing erection in her hand, bracing herself with her other hand on his hip. She stroked him up and down, once, twice. She was careful, light, and teasing. Finally, she lowered her mouth onto the tip of his pulsing cock and licked a small bead of precum away, tasting him before swirling her tongue around the head of his erection with tantalisingly slow movements. Draco had to brace himself on the shower wall in case his legs gave way. Her mouth was hot, wet and heavenly. She was tasting him tentatively — she'd barely even begun moving. Did she know just how cleverly cruel she was being right now? He was sure she did. She knew everything. 

She took him in her mouth then, as much as she could and Draco had the sudden compulsion to propose marriage to her then and there. The hot water pummelled his back as Hermione’s tongue worked like sensual sin, tasting every inch of him. He clamped his jaw shut and breathed deeply through his nose, willing his body to calm down. But she was using her hand and her mouth on him, and he knew that he stood no chance. Her hand pumped while her mouth sucked, and her tongue flicked. He was going to come, and unless he pulled away from her fucking delicious mouth, that was where it would happen. He jerked backwards, but Hermione held on.

"Granger, I'm going to come. Granger! Oh, fuuuck!" Draco groaned, digging his fingers into her hair.

Hermione stared up at him, her eyes large, and her mouth still firmly wrapped around his cock. It was such a fucking amazing sight that he had a hard time ripping his gaze away to meet her eyes. He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her off of him just in time. He took himself in hand and turned toward the shower spray, emptying himself down into the drain. Satisfied and spent, he turned back to see Hermione still on her knees, a pout on her face.

"Fucking hell," he cursed, losing his fingers in her wet curls once more, he urged her back up to her feet. “You don’t need to swallow for me, Granger. I don’t expect that from you.” 

Hermione wiped her lips off with the tips of her fingers. Draco watched her in awe, already feeling another stirring low in his abdomen. 

“Maybe you don’t expect it, Malfoy, but I might actually _like_ to swallow. I thought we were done with you making my decisions for me?” Her words were serious, but her tone and body language were anything but. “Next time, you’ll let me — I know you will.” Hermione didn’t let him respond, instead, she stretched up to meet his lips in a sweet kiss. 

_Fuck_ was all he could think. ‘Fuck’ over and over again in all the best ways. _Fuck_ , he could taste himself on her tongue. _Fuck_ , she was sexy. _Fuck_ , she was amazing and _fuck_ , she was _all his_. He kissed her back, savagely, his desire for her, for everything about her; coming alive and taking control of his mouth on hers. 

The low stirring became something else entirely. Draco pulled Hermione more firmly against his body, picking her up and pressing her back into the shower wall. Immediately she arched towards him, stung by the cold tiles, but Draco was insistent. He peppered hot kisses over her face and sucked on a spot just behind her ear on her neck, causing her to moan. The sound reverberated and echoed off the tiles, it egged him on, and when she latched onto his shoulder with her teeth, he hissed in both pain and pleasure, his cock jumping to action. Blindly, he found his way and eased himself inside of her. She was wet and willing, accomodating in their position. As he filled her, slowly stretching her tight cunt, she bit harder, clawing her nails up his back, desperate to find purchase. 

He thrust inside of her, his hips snapping against hers in frantic movements. She was already keening, already feeling the tension building inside of her screaming for release. At this angle, he was hitting her just right and even though he had just come, she was making it hard to hold off. The sounds she made elicited their own kind of response in him. She was making those noises for him, _because of him._ He had missed this, missed _her_ , and wanted so desperately to hear her beg for him. Her body clenched around him, tight and wet, squeezing him just so. He was buried to the hilt, somehow she accommodated every single bit of him. She was heaven, and she was sin, and she was clenching against him now in a telltale way. Her breathing harsher, her heartbeat more rapid.

"Draco, I'm. Fuck. Yes. Right there, yes. Fuck. Oh, _Gods_ , please! I’m going to —"

“You’re mine,” he growled against her neck. “Come for me, Hermione!”

Hermione saw stars. Her body went limp, and if Draco hadn't been supporting her against the wall, she'd have crumpled in a heap. 

With her walls clenching around him, Draco thrust inside of her just one more time before finding his second release. 

"Fucking bloody hell, you're perfect," he panted against her ear. 

Together they slid down the wall, lying tangled in each other underneath the spray of the shower.

* * *

As they dressed, Draco considered her. He had no idea what he could have possibly done in another life to deserve her now, but he was thankful. He wouldn’t question it. He'd just continue to try everything and anything to deserve her. To keep her happy. She was his be-all and his end-all. She was everything to him.

"What?" Hermione asked, noticing his stare. She pulled on her shoes and stared right back.

"Nothing, I - I just don't think anybody could feel the way that I do about you right now."

Hermione's eyes lit up, and a smile glittered across her face. Her heart was light and happy tears threatened to spill. 

“There are so many things that I could say in response to that, but I wouldn't know how to begin. I don't believe that anybody could love you like I do, either."

"All this time; I have been trying to save you; from my father, my uncle, from me, but maybe — maybe you'll be the one to save me."

Hermione took a small moment to observe him. He was calm, relaxed, happy, playful and open — she could get used to this. Still, she wasn’t quite sure how she would respond, so she decided on the truth — with a hint of humour. "Wouldn't be the first time," she quipped with a wink. Hermione threw her wet hair over her shoulder. "Break is over, Malfoy. Time to get back to work!"

Hermione flounced out of the bathroom, ready to get back to her studies. Draco watched her hips sway as she left, and caught himself wondering for the thousandth time how he got so lucky.

* * *

The following weekend offered a trip to Hogsmeade, and after a lot of negotiating, Draco had conceded to the trip. Hermione was both pleased and relieved. She rearranged their calendar to show their free time on Saturday afternoon instead of Sunday. They would be going on a “triple date” apparently. The thought alone had Draco cringing. The term on its own was ludicrous. They'd be joined by Lovegood, Longbottom, the Weasellete, and Potter was making a special trip to see his girlfriend, their friends and subsequently _him_. It was bound to be an eventful afternoon, and Draco was dragging his feet.

"Can't we just go with the two of us? I'd love to have you all to myself in a quiet corner in the Three Broomsticks. Or to spoil your gorgeous mouth, and make you smile with a sugar quill or five from Honeydukes? We could spend _hours_ in Tomes and Scrolls! I’ll buy you any book you fancy! Wouldn't that be fun, Granger? Tomes and Scrolls? Get lost between the almost-toppling stacks of books — find a nice, quiet spot where I can press your gorgeous back up against the shelves and have my way with you?” Draco pouted, adding, “We don't need the others!"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" Hermione scolded. "We have made a plan and a commitment to my friends. I hope that someday soon you will also be able to call them _your_ friends. If you want to make a life with me, you will certainly try to be mindful of that. These are good people, _all_ of them. Funny, and brave. Smart and witty. Just be yourself — the self that you are every day with me. Try not to get under anyone's skin and for heaven's sake, let your defences down just a little bit. Especially for Harry. Please?"

Draco huffed and stared at his shoes, contemplating his response. He was loath to make any more promises to her that he couldn't keep.

"I'll try," he said eventually. "But if anyone says something out of line, all bets are off!" He warned, his silver eyes flashing in the light. "If Potter has a go or even _tries_ to rile me up, I honestly can't be sure how I will respond."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot against the floor, watching him expectantly. Draco let out a puff of air that ruffled the hair on his forehead. 

"Fuck, Granger. What do you want me to say? I will try — I promise to try!"

"Well. Alright then," she smiled demurely. She crossed the room and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. Taking his hand, she swung it back and forth. "Come on, we're supposed to meet Ginny, Luna and Neville by the entrance to the castle."

Draco groaned but allowed her to pull him along behind her. She was a feisty, strong thing when she wanted to be.

The three women chatted animatedly during the walk to the small wizarding village. They were up ahead by a couple of paces, giggling and talking as if they didn't have a care in the world. Neville and Draco trailed a few steps behind, and Draco noticed that Longbottom looked just as uncomfortable as he was feeling. 

"So," said Neville as he kicked at a few rocks with his shoe. "You and Hermione, huh? Have to say, I didn't see that one coming."

"You and me both, Longbottom. I'll admit to being shocked and surprised every morning when she's still in the bed next to me."

Neville's face, neck and ears turned a brilliant shade of puce, and he stammered over his next few words. "Lucky that - getting to share a living space, I mean. Not all of us are so fortunate."

"Where do you and Lovegood find time to be alone?" Draco asked, feeling oddly at ease with his classmate. He'd admit to never thinking too much of the clumsy kid before, but Longbottom had really grown into his own during the war. He'd become something other than the disaster Draco had always seen in Potions. He'd grown confident, and strong. Daring and brave. The kind of Gryffindor that the Sorting Hat had always known him to be. Strangely, Draco was proud of the man Neville had become. He could almost hear Granger's voice encouraging him to tell the other man just that.

"Oh, er. Here and there. Quiet classrooms and other places like that. Luna's actually really good at finding places. She knows the castle better than anyone!"

"I -" Draco swallowed. It went against every instinct he had to tell Neville anything other than what was strictly necessary. Or anything complimentary. Showing anything other than disdain for others usually made him so uncomfortable, but perhaps Hermione was rubbing off on him in more ways than one. Still, he nearly choked on his sentence. "I think you and Lovegood are good. Er, what I mean to say is, I think you've both found a good match in each other. And," he swallowed. Damn Hermione for doing this to him. "I wanted to tell you that I admire you."

Neville looked up at Draco, squinting from the sun in his eyes, or surprise. Draco couldn't be sure.

"You — you admire me?" Neville sounded shocked. Surprise it was, then.

"Yes. What you did last year. Standing up to the Carrows. Your efforts in the war. Taking the head off of that fucking snake and standing up to the Dark Lord," Draco stuttered on the last. He clapped Neville on the shoulder. "You are a far better man than I am, Longbottom. I suppose I should also apologise for having always treated you like shite, too."

Neville nodded his thanks, emotion thick in his throat. 

A few moments passed before either of them spoke again. 

"Is this what you're really like then?" Neville wondered aloud. 

Draco looked at him sharply, his eyebrow quirked to a perfection that was completely lost on Neville.

"Well. It's just that I've been wondering. We all have, I guess. What it is that Hermione sees in you."

"I've been wondering that, too," Draco confessed.

"You were always such a prick to her — we just couldn't figure it out!"

"We?" Draco questioned.

"Yeah. Dean, Seamus and I had a conversation or two last week. Dean's still a bit cut up about everything, I think. But either way, we couldn't see any sense in it. But now; now I think, maybe, yeah. You're not such a prat, after all, Malfoy."

Draco started to laugh, actually _laugh_ with Neville Longbottom until he realised that the other bloke wasn't laughing along.

"You hurt her though, Malfoy, and you'll have the whole of fucking Gryffindor house to answer to. Plus Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Oh, and most of the wizarding world, too. Nagini's not the _only_ snake whose head I'm willing to cut off, yeah?"

 _Fuck me,_ Draco thought. The kid _had_ grown balls over the last few years.

"Message received, Longbottom. I plan to keep her happy for as long as she'll have me. You have my word on that."

It was Neville's turn to clap Draco on the shoulder as they rounded the bend into Hogsmeade. 

"Let's just hope you keep it, then," the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. 

* * *

To Draco's complete horror, he saw Potter standing awkwardly outside the pink tea shop.

"Oh, Merlin, no -" He stammered, as the girls headed straight for Madam Puddifoot's. 

Ginny ran the last ten or so metres before launching herself into Harry's arms. Draco watched with interest as Potter's countenance transformed from one of moping disinterest to absolute adoration for the witch in his arms. That was something that Draco understood well now, and he felt the corner of his mouth tug up in a reluctant smile. He squished the sensation back down and shuffled his feet nervously as the others greeted Harry with slightly less enthusiasm than the Weaslette. 

When Neville stepped back from confidently man-hugging Potter, making Draco increasingly uncomfortable, Draco was finally able to lock eyes with him. They both cleared their throats while the others looked on expectantly. Hermione was fidgeting nervously, he could see. She was absently pulling at the skin around her thumbnail, her eyes darting back and forth between the two young men.

"Malfoy," Harry nodded. 

Draco looked quickly to Hermione, who's eyes were pleading with him.

He cleared his throat again and stuck out his hand. "Potter."

Draco and Harry shared a brief handshake before stepping back and retreating to their respective girlfriends. Draco fought the urge to wipe his hand on the back of his coat. 

"Please tell me this isn't where we're eating?" He looked at Hermione. 

"It sure is!" Hermione beamed, a twinkle in her eyes. Draco hadn’t thought Hermione capable of torture. He knew better now.

"They have the most wonderful little desserts. Lots of sugar and butter, you know, but very tasty. Lots of whipped cream, too. Neville and I _adore_ whipped cream!" Luna told them all, heading for the door.

Draco shared a grimace with Neville and Harry, and the gesture alone could have knocked him over.

The bell above the door tinkled as the six of them stepped through, barely able to stand together for the number of tables spread through the dining room.

"Bloody frills," Potter muttered under his breath.

Draco didn't suppress his grin this time. Potter's back was to him, and only Hermione caught the look. She tugged on his hand softly and leaned into his side. 

"Hello, loves," the stout woman greeted them. "A table for six is it? Just wait one moment, and I'll get some tables together." Madam Puddifoot turned her back on them, her black hair, streaked with grey was woven into a shiny bun. With a wave of her wand, three small tables and six chairs danced closer together, making room for all of them to sit together. "There you go, dears. Menus are on the table. I'll be over in a few minutes to take your order."

The six of them squeezed past other diners and students, trying not to trip over the frills and bows on the excessive tablecloths. Somehow between the ruffles and the small tables, Draco ended up next to Hermione, but across from Harry. He looked around anxiously. Surely he could somehow switch seats, end up across from Lovegood or Longbottom, but Hermione slipped her hand high up his thigh, silencing him and keeping him still. He guessed that the vast amounts of lace on the tables were good for something, after all. When everyone was settled, she removed her hand from his leg and picked up the small menu instead. Draco reined in his pout.

He looked down at his menu to see vast amounts of different sweets and drinks on offer. He really just wanted and _needed_ a Firewhisky. It might hinder his ability to be civil towards Potter, but it sure would take the sting out of the hole Harry was working on boring into his very soul. 

"Fuck, Potter. Spit it _out_ , already!" Draco looked up, meeting Harry's eyes.

Hermione dropped her hand back to Draco's leg, squeezing hard enough to leave little finger-shaped bruises. 

Hermione glanced at her friend's faces. All of them were staring intently between Harry and Draco. Ginny appeared to be just as anxious as Hermione felt. Hermione noticed her placing a comforting hand on Harry’s tightly clenched fist, visible amongst the lace doilies on the table, for all to see.

"I guess what I want to know, Malfoy, is why the sudden change of heart? Are muggle-borns suddenly acceptable to you now? Just what is it that you're trying to get out of this?" He waved his hand between Draco and Hermione.

"Harry!" Hermione admonished, dropping her menu to the table.

"It's alright, Granger," Draco reassured her. "Look, Potter. I won't claim to be a perfect person -"

"That's a first," Harry snorted.

Draco continued talking over the top of him. "There are many things I wish I didn't do. Every day I am learning, trying to do better — _be_ better. I'd like to tell you that I didn't mean to do all those shitty things, but that would be a lie. I did mean to do them. I was a shit of kid."

Madam Puddifoot reappeared at the other end of the tables, not noticing that she was interrupting a rather uncomfortable conversation between the two young men at the other end. "Have we made any decisions on what you'd like to drink, loves?"

"Firewhisky," Harry and Draco said in unison.

Madam Puddifoot looked up nervously. "I'm afraid I don't serve alcohol, dears. Can I get you something else?"

"Coffee," Draco said.

"Tea," Harry answered.

"Lovely. Everyone else?"

The remainder of the table gave their drink preferences to the portly witch, and she shuffled off to make them.

Harry levelled Draco with a stare he must have learnt at the Auror's Academy. It was intimidating, but Draco refused to back down. Not today, and not with Hermione by his side. 

"Look, Potter. I'm sorry that I hurt you. All of you, and especially Hermione. I'm sorry that I fell on the wrong side of the war. I - I didn't think I had a choice back then. I know differently now, but -" he chanced a look at the gorgeous witch to his right. "It's something that I have to live with every day. 

"So why now? After all of these years. Why now?" Harry reiterated.

"I guess you could say that I've found a reason to start over.” It must have been the right thing to say because Hermione had suddenly gripped his hand, and was squeezing it tightly beneath the table. “As I was saying before, there's many things I wish I didn't do, but I continue learning for her and hope that one day it’ll be enough. I hope that you can accept that as it is for now."

Harry looked slightly more mollified than he had a few moments ago. He leaned back in his chair, the stern look on his face dissolving.

"Just one more question, Malfoy. What’s the reason for all this?"

Draco offered Harry a quirk of his eyebrow and a small tugging on the right side of his mouth. He turned to Hermione. 

"The reason is you." 

A blush crept up over Hermione's neck and fanned over her cheeks as she smiled in a pleased but embarrassed way. 

"Well, alright then," Harry said, awkwardly shifting in his seat. Ginny squeezed his hand in gentle reassurance and smiled at him.

Madam Puddifoot arrived then and hovered everyone's drinks over to them, and two large trays of sandwiches and cakes settled down between the six of them. "Anything else, dears?"

Slowly, they all shook their heads and thanked the witch, who left to serve her other customers.

Ginny picked a cucumber sandwich from the plate, a wicked glint in her eye.

"And you, 'Mione. What's _your_ reason?"

Hermione met her friend's eyes, catching the gleam. She returned the expression in reply and turned to address Harry as she spoke.

"He's just so _tall_ and handsome as _hell_. He knows how to be bad, and damn — he does it all so well!" Hermione’s grin was pure mischief, running a finger over Draco's collarbone.

The colour drained from Harry's face as Ginny and Luna dissolved into fits of giggles. Hermione waited for a beat before joining them. 

Draco studiously ignored all of them, sipping at his coffee and staring out of the window. _Was that? No, it couldn't be. Not here_. Draco narrowed his eyes, attempting to look through the window at the retreating figure. There it was, the limp was unmistakable.

"Fuck!" Draco jumped to his feet, nearly upending the table and spilling their drinks everywhere.

"The fuck you doing, Malfoy?" Harry was on his feet, too, attempting to dust the hot tea off his pants.

"Potter! That's him! That's my uncle!" Draco was drawing his wand. 

Harry cast his Patronus more quickly than Hermione had ever seen him before. "Rodolphus Lestrange. Spotted in Hogsmeade." He told it. The silver stag galloped away. A split second later, Harry was on his way out of the tea shop, Draco hot on his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & Kudos feed my soul! Feel free to be liberal with them.
> 
> Chapter songs are:  
> If I Could Turn Back Time - Cher  
> Wonderwall - Oasis  
> The Reason - Hoobastank
> 
> Cameo appearance from Taylor Swift's: Wildest Dreams


	15. Love Don't Hate It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies. Thank you for being so patient and waiting for this chapter. I gotta tell you, something felt mighty weird to me last week and I had to keep reminding myself it was because I hadn't and wouldn't be posting until this week. I hope you enjoy this dose of fluff with all of my thanks and appreciation to my alphabet of MissyJAnne85 & Caitlincheri28.
> 
> You can find the updated Spotify playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=5FDMapLKSlOIeC-9bjwMcA)... Enjoy!

Hermione sat frozen to her chair for approximately three seconds with Luna, Ginny and Neville demanding to know what was going on. She couldn't answer them, didn't know how. How did you tell your best friends that someone was actively hunting you for being in love with the wrong person? 

She just shook her head at them and pulled her wand from her arm holster, beckoning the others to do the same. 

"Rodolphus Lestrange is out there somewhere, disguised as I don't know who. Let's get out there and help Harry and Draco round him up. One against six are good odds if you ask me!" Hermione took off, running through the startled diners and out into the cold street.

She looked left and right, hearing and feeling her friends at her back. 

"Should we split up, or stick together?" Neville asked.

"Let's split up. You go with Luna. Ginny with me," Hermione directed. They paired off and moved in opposite directions, looking for anything untoward on the busy Saturday afternoon in Hogsmeade. 

Students of Hogwarts and witches and wizards alike meandered through the town, creating a task almost impossible for them. Hermione had no idea who she was looking for. She didn't see who Rodolphus was disguised as, man or woman, tall or short, thick or thin. She was working blind, just hoping for something suspicious to leap out at her. 

Up ahead, there were several loud cracks. Hermione glanced back at Ginny, and the two took off at a run towards the sound. Several Aurors had Apparated into the town square. Hermione recognised Dawlish as he spoke with Harry. Draco was standing off to the side, his eyes sharp and wary of his surroundings. When he saw Hermione, she could feel the heat of his glower from a hundred metres away. He stalked towards her and took her by the arm. 

"Are you _mad_?" He whispered harshly. "Why the _fuck_ did you leave the tea rooms? Potter and I were chasing him away from you, and you just—" he waved his hands in the air, "decided to take a walk? Turn yourself over as bait?"

"Wait just a second!" It was Ginny, watching the exchange with confusion etched into her brows. "Are you saying that Lestrange is out here looking for Hermione?"

"Yes!" Draco snarled.

"No!" Hermione said at the same time.

Ginny looked back and forth between the two of them before Hermione conceded.

"Yes, alright. He seems to have a bit of an issue with me. Doesn't like the idea that I sully his nephew's sheets. But, really, Draco," Hermione turned her attention back to him, "I can take care of myself. I think I have proved that sufficiently over the years!"

"Not the point," he said, his eyes dancing to a dangerous tune.

Hermione watched him carefully for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his waist. 

"I'm alright," she told him. "You can see that I am, right? We'll be more careful in the future. What's happening anyway?"

"Bastard disappeared after I spotted him. Potter and I chased him for a bit, but he Disapparated a minute later. I guess Potter is giving the Aurors some kind of report now."

"Well, I guess if there is one positive from all of this, is that the DMLE will take the threat seriously now. Mum and Dad are sure to be well protected, too."

Draco squeezed her tightly against him for a moment longer before releasing her. Ginny took her hand as she spotted Neville and Luna on the other side of the square. People were jostling each other to get a good look at Harry Potter conversing with a team of Aurors. Somewhere in the crowd, a camera flashed.

Harry scanned the crowd, looking for Malfoy and spotted him with Ginny and Hermione. He made his way over to them.

"Law Enforcement is going to do a sweep of the area and attempt to conduct a trace. It's unlikely that your uncle left anything traceable behind, but you can never be too sure. I think we rattled him. We might get lucky."

"But probably not," Draco countered. "He's a fucking slippery bastard, and he's managed to avoid arrest so far. He'll likely keep doing so. Are the Aurors going to up the ante on protection spells for Granger's parents?"

"We'll see what happens in the next twenty-four hours. The chase will be on for Lestrange until then. If somebody finds something, we will know more. For now, I'll be escorting you all back to the castle along with a couple of others. The fun afternoon is over, I'm afraid."

"I guess this means you're back on Auror mode, no longer in boyfriend mode," Ginny pouted. 

"I'm afraid so," he told her with a sad smile.

Ginny sighed sadly and squeezed Harry in a tight hug before stepping back. "It was fun while it lasted, I guess," she shrugged, falling into step next to him while they made their way to the centre of the square, joining a few other Aurors. Two were waving their wands over the area, another three had darted off to conduct a thorough search through Hogsmeade, and the last two were standing in wait to escort them back to the castle. Luna and Neville joined them, their expressions quizzical. 

"Mr Malfoy, I have some questions for you, if you'd please just step away with me?" Dawlish had appeared in front of them, his expression one that gave Draco little choice - though he'd have answered any question the Auror asked anyway.

"Certainly," Draco replied stiffly, squeezing Hermione's hand in his and bringing her with them. There was no way he was letting her out of his sight until they got back to the castle. Maybe not even then.

"Alone, if you will, Malfoy. I need to make sure that your story lines up with my colleague's."

"My uncle could be disguised as anyone right now, Auror Dawlish, and he has his sights set on Miss Granger. You'll forgive me for keeping her by my side at all times," Draco insisted.

"Draco, really, it's alright," Hermione smiled. "I'll be with Harry. I'll be fine!"

Draco looked down at her and pulled her closer to his side. His intention was perfectly clear.

Dawlish cleared his throat. "Right then, Mr Malfoy. Please tell me in your own words what occurred this afternoon."

"Refreshments had just been served to us—"

"Where were you and who were you with?"

Draco tried desperately not to be annoyed with the Auror. "Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and I were trying to enjoy an afternoon together at Madam Puddifoot's insipid tearooms. Our orders were delivered to the table, and Granger had just made a rather embarrassing comment about me to her friends, so I looked away and out of the shop. There was a man, about thirty years old, peering in through the window. I thought this very odd, as the tearooms are notoriously used by young couples and on a Hogwarts weekend, they're full to the brim of teenagers. Initially, I didn't pay too much attention, until the man's eyes caught mine. He turned away, nearly running, and that was when I noticed his limp. The same limp my uncle sustained during the war. That was when I alerted Potter to the threat, and he sent his Patronus to your lot."

"And then?" Dawlish questioned, leaning in.

"And then Potter and I ran out of the tearooms and gave chase. Once Lestrange realised we were onto him, he Disapparated pretty quickly."

"And you have no idea where he might have gone?"

"None," Draco confirmed.

"And you wouldn't lie to protect your uncle, would you, Malfoy?" Dawlish all but sneered.

Draco looked down at Hermione, whom he still held clutched to his side, and back to Dawlish's face, so close to his own.

"My uncle is a raving lunatic. He sent me a decapitated rat in the mail, the word 'Mudblood' inscribed on its side. And do you know why, Auror Dawlish? He did it because he is insane. He did it because he wanted to get under my skin. He did it because I love someone who he deems _unworthy_." Draco's fingers twitched against Hermione's waist. "I want my uncle put away just as badly as you do, if not more," he seethed. "I will not let him hurt Hermione. So no, I _would not_ lie to protect him."

Dawlish stepped back a pace or two during Draco's little speech. He cleared his throat again now. "Very well, Mr Malfoy. Your story matches with Potter's sufficiently. Thank you for your time. I will be in contact with you in the future if the need arises. I trust that you will do the same with me. Good day to you both," Dawlish nodded and left them to round up his team. 

Hermione leaned further into Draco's side and squeezed him tight. "You didn't need to say all of that, you know, but I'm glad that you did," she smiled up at him. Dawlish’s interrogation had unnerved her. The idea that the Ministry wasn’t willing to completely accept Draco’s word was infuriating, if not understandable. The fact that Rodolphus had been so close to them, to her, was more than rattling, but she wouldn’t let Draco see that. "Let's get back to Hogwarts and try and salvage some of this day!"

"I am never letting you out of my sight again," he told her. "And we're definitely getting out of here for the Easter holidays. Pick somewhere you've never been, but have always wanted to go, and I'll organise a way to get there."

"Not going to happen, Malfoy," Hermione said.

Draco started to protest, but she talked over him. "I _mean_ —sure, let's go. I'll pick somewhere, but we'll travel like Muggles. Tell me that your uncle will be able to trace us that way? No one in the Magical world will have a clue where we are. All I'll have to do is figure out a Passport for you, and we'll be safer than ever."

Draco pondered for a moment as they waited for Harry to make the final preparations for the escort.

"Deal," he said finally.

* * *

In the end, Hermione created two copies of her passport and magicked some fake information onto them both, keeping the photographs correct. She was hoping it would be enough but was prepared to _Confund_ any official who might question them if need be. It would be a necessary evil that she hoped to avoid. 

Hermione considered booking them plane tickets, certainly around Europe they were cheap enough, but she didn't know how Draco would react in an aeroplane, so she played it safe and booked train tickets. She hoped to make it look as though they travelled from London to Paris, ending their destination in the City of Love. This was not her intention, from Paris they would travel to Belgium - Brussels to be exact, and she hoped that all of these things in combination would be enough to keep them well hidden from any witch or wizard attempting to locate them. 

Draco was impressed but thoroughly annoyed with the time that the travel would take. 

"If we'd just taken a Portkey, we'd have been there ten hours ago, Granger. Surely this way of travel leaves more of a mark than a Portkey."

"And to organise an illegal international Portkey you'd have done exactly what? Contact an old family acquaintance that Rodolphus or your father might just as easily sway to give up our location?"

Draco harrumphed and sat back in the stiff leather chair of the train carriage. 

"Just relax," Hermione encouraged him, curling into his side. "Watch the countryside flash by, and we'll be there before you know it!"

Draco checked his wristwatch but otherwise said nothing as Hermione snuggled into him. He cradled her head on his chest and tried to ignore all the other travellers who walked by, while simultaneously checking them all to see if they could be his uncle in disguise. His stare intimidated many, but he soon noticed several young women who passed by them frequently, their eyes either watching him with interest or glancing at the woman half-asleep on him with dislike. 

Hermione startled him when she spoke. "They're not dangerous," she told him as one particular teen walked by for the fifth time. "They're just checking you out," she told him with a little giggle, sitting up straighter.

"They're what?"

"Checking you out," Hermione reiterated. "Don't tell me you've gone and forgotten just how damn good looking you are, Malfoy. You usually love to remind me about it!" She poked him playfully in the chest.

In response, Draco pulled her the rest of the way into his lap and leaned his forehead against hers. 

"And you then? What are they staring at you like that for?"

"They're trying to figure out if we're together, or if you're simply accommodating a fellow passenger."

"Well, then, I think we should show these Muggle girls just exactly how _accommodating_ I can be," he grinned devilishly at her and lowered his lips to hers.

Hermione grinned back, feeling his smile against her lips and more than willing to lean into the kiss. She felt like she had taken the correct steps to keep them safe for at least this much of the journey. She was relaxed, and she wanted him to be as well. The sweet kiss, safe for a public display quickly turned into something more. She was already in his lap, her feet awkwardly flung over into the seat of her own chair. She couldn't get much closer than she was, but she tried. Her hands slipped into the silk of his platinum hair, and she pulled him to her with a strength she didn't know she possessed. 

Draco growled low in his throat, the primal sound shooting straight to her core, the vibration of it doing strange things to her lips.

Someone walked by, a familiar girlish perfume cloying through the air indicating that it was the same girl again. Distantly, Hermione heard her startled exclamation at the sight. It made her grin and pull on Draco's hair more possessively. Watching the girls pass by had been entertaining, she wasn't a jealous woman by nature, but she was more than happy to show these women that Draco was hers. She carried on kissing him just as she had been until a much more gruff sound pulled her away from his lips. Hermione looked up sheepishly into the face of a train guard. His look of irritation suggested that he had cleared his throat more than once in order to get their attention. 

"Sorry," Hermione squeaked, scrambling to slide back into her seat.

"Tickets and passports?" The burly Frenchman requested, sticking out his hand.

"Yes, right, of course," Hermione stammered, reaching for her bag which was tucked under her chair. Carefully, she turned away from the guard. It was all they needed for him to see her elbow-deep in a small handbag. A moment of rummaging later and Hermione procured their travel documents and handed them over for inspection. Hermione felt her heart beating quickly in her chest and Draco's nervous energy at her back. She put her hand just above his knee and squeezed, hoping to confer a sense of calm in him.

"Looks fine," the guard told her, handing everything back.

Hermione thanked him, and he moved along a few rows to the next set of people. 

"Everything alright, then?" Draco checked as she put their documents back away. 

"Seems the spells worked just fine," Hermione grinned. "Nothing to worry about except the tent in your pants," she winked at him.

"For which you are entirely responsible, witch!"

Hermione grinned at him and settled back into her seat, checking to see how much farther they needed to travel before arriving in Brussels.

"So. I never did ask you — why Brussels?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Why Brussels? Draco Malfoy, I'm shocked! Didn't you know that the way to a woman's heart is through delectable Belgian chocolate? And I intend to eat my fill of it while we're here."

* * *

Finally, Hermione wheeled her Muggle luggage through the door of their dingy hotel room, Draco just one step behind her. He'd been muttering under his breath since they entered the lobby.

The moment the door closed behind them, he looked up and took in the small, modest, and admittedly, not the cleanest room. 

"Oh, fuck no, Granger. We're not staying in this hovel. The Shrieking Shack is more inviting than this!"

"Draco, calm down," Hermione pleaded. "We're flying under the radar, going incognito."

"It's an incog-fucking-no in my book, Granger. I've bought enough Galleons with me. We can exchange them to Muggle money through the local Gringotts. That way I won't be making any withdrawals, no one will know we're here!"

"And if someone recognises us?" Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. 

"We'll go in disguise. You can change your hair, and I'll make my nose less pointy!"

Hermione giggled despite herself. "I still think this is the best option for us to remain in hiding!"

"What name did you book the room under? Maybe it would be better if we changed the name on the pass-thing and went somewhere else—another dead-end trail." Draco exclaimed, stumbling his way blindly into a way to get out of this hell hole. "Yes, that's it. If anyone following us finds this place, they'll think this is where we're staying and won't come looking for us under different names anywhere else. It makes perfect sense, Granger."

Hermione looked at him sceptically. Despite his reasons behind a change of venue, he had come up with a pretty sound plan.

"Ok, good. Fine, let's do that. But let's set up some wards on this room. At least something to notify us if anyone other than the housekeeping comes investigating!"

"You've got yourself a deal, Granger!" Draco smirked, bending to kiss her soundly on the mouth before taking his wand and beginning the wards on the room. Hermione joined in, and when they were done, Draco wasted no time in wheeling his bag straight back out and into the hall. 

"Wait," Hermione said, bringing him to a halt. She flicked her wrist and shrunk their luggage to a size where she could easily slip them in her beaded bag. 

Draco looked at her quizzically.

"If anyone is watching, we wouldn't want them to know that we don't plan on staying here," she told him. "Plus, this is much easier to get around with on the cobblestones!"

Draco smiled, kissing her on the cheek and slipping his hand into hers. As he laced their fingers together, Hermione started to feel like she was on some sort of bizarre holiday with a lover instead of a week-long hideout. She didn't mind the transformation at all. Especially if it put Draco in high spirits. Maybe he was starting to feel a little safer as well, now that they were completely out of their home country. 

"Any idea where the Belgian branch of Gringotts is located?" Hermione asked, suddenly unsure. 

"I'm willing to bet that it's in their version of Diagon Alley, which is called Heksenweg, and lucky for us, it's located right here in Brussels," Draco said as he marched down the stairs, two at a time. He was very eager to get out of this establishment. 

"Right, and how do we find that?" Hermione asked, dubious.

Draco raised his right eyebrow at her, and checking that the coast was clear, he pulled his wand. Laying it flat on his palm, he whispered, "Point Me, Heksenweg". A rough map of Brussels appeared before them, indicating a red spot for Heksenweg and a blue spot for where they stood. According to the map, they were within walking distance. Once they arrived, it would just be a matter of locating Disillusionment charms and finding their way inside. 

Together, they worked their way through tourists and locals alike to find their way to Brussels Centrum. Their map had indicated that the entrance to the Wizarding Underground could be found by the popular tourist attraction _Manneke Pis._

"Any idea what that is?" Hermione asked him as they walked through the bustling town centre. The town was absolutely riddled with chocolate shops, and Hermione could not wait to sample something from every single one, but Draco kept pulling her along, determined to find them a better hotel. 

"I speak three languages, Granger. Dutch isn't one of them. Your guess is as good as mine," he told her, pushing through the crowd.

Within moments, they found the source of the tourist frenzy. A small area was fenced off from the Muggles, displaying a water fountain and behind it, a small bronze statue depicting a young boy relieving himself into another fountain. 

Hermione giggled, Draco rolled his eyes. 

"You don't like it?" She asked, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbows.

"It's undignified and uncouth, Granger. Now help me look for the wards."

"It's funny, and it's art," Hermione countered. "There," she said, pointing to the other side of the fence. There was a small shimmer against the gate on the opposite side, and Hermione saw a witch slip behind it, tapping her wand against a stone in the wall as she did. 

"Let's go," Draco said, taking her hand. "Did you see which stone she hit?"

"Not _exactly_ which one," Hermione admitted, leaning against the wall casually. "But it was somewhere around here," she said, her wand subtly tapping stone after stone. On her third try, she felt the wards fall, and she pulled Draco through the barrier.

The Magical centre of Brussels was alive and buzzing. There were no other words for it. Witches and wizards spoke in English, Dutch and French all around them. Hermione couldn't figure out how they all knew which language to speak to whom, but she hoped that whoever she came across would be fine with English. Her Dutch was non-existent, and her French was rusty at best. Thankfully, one of the languages Draco _did_ speak was French. Draco stopped a young man who was passing them by, his arms laden with bags.

"Excusez-moi, pouvez-vous me dire où se trouve la banque?" He asked, his accent perfect. Hermione felt her knees go weak. Rusty as her French was, she understood enough that he was asking for directions to the bank. Aware of how utterly mundane the question was, the sound of the accent still had her squeezing her thighs together. Merlin, she hoped they found a hotel room soon. 

The wizard barely stopped in his tracks but pointed a finger in the direction they should go. Draco thanked his retreating back and pulled Hermione to his side, heading north.

They took their time, meandering through the streets, taking in the different apothecaries, sweet shops, bars—so many bars, the Belgians seemed to enjoy their beer. Draco lingered longingly by the Broomstick store. 

"Later," Hermione promised him. "We can look later. First, let's exchange the Galleons into Euros before you go and drop them all on the latest broom and leave us to sleep on the streets instead of a lovely plush bed."

Draco smirked down at her. "I think you underestimate just how much gold I brought with me, Granger."

Hermione groaned. "You're such a spoiled little rich kid," she said. "Don't you have a perfectly good broom back at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, but it's not here. We could go flying!"

"You know that I loathe flying, Malfoy. Come on." Hermione tried her hand at distracting him. She walked her fingers up his arm, landing on his shoulder. "I want to find a hotel room with an acceptable bed so I can have you in it," she winked. 

Draco all but ran to the bank, pulling her in his wake. Hermione laughed in delight, trailing along behind him. Her shorter legs working twice as hard as his. 

They found the bank. It towered above them just as Gringotts in Diagon Alley did. They stopped in a dark alley and took a moment to change their appearances to something completely other than themselves. Draco charmed his hair brown and added some blue pigment to his eyes. Hermione tried in vain not to laugh. She transfigured her curly brunette locks into silken raven lengths, her eyes turned green, and she conjured a pair of sharp, slim rectangle glasses to complete the look. 

"Do I need to do anything else?" She asked him. 

Draco frowned. "You look like a female Potter and entirely unlike yourself. I fucking hate it. Let's get this over with."

"Wait," Hermione tugged on his arm as he turned to leave. "I think you should do something more than your hair and eyes. What about making yourself appear a little shorter?"

"Should I just chop my feet off at the ankles while I'm at it, Granger?" Draco rolled his eyes and walked into the bank. Hermione trailed along behind him, a small smile on her face.

Thirty minutes later Draco and Hermione emerged from the bank, with Hermione's beaded bag full of paper Euros, weighing a whole lot less than the gold Draco had bought with him.

Vowing to come back to Heksenweg the next day to indulge in their fancies, they moved back through the beautiful city of Brussels to find a hotel that Draco deemed suitable enough for them. 

* * *

"This one is _fine_ , Draco. We've already been in and out of three that were more than adequate. Just because we have the money, doesn't mean that we need to _spend_ the money. Let's just see if they have a room available for the week."

Draco dragged his feet but allowed Hermione to lead him to the reception desk of the Hotel Le Plaza, Brussels. After a brief conversation with the concierge, they secured a room with a view for the week with a large down payment of their euros. 

When the door to their room was thrown open for them, Hermione sighed in wonder. If Draco didn't think this room was good enough, with all of its plush furnishings in rich golds, creams, and burgundies, she thought she might scream. The view alone was worth the price they'd paid for the room. 

"How do you find the room?" The server asked them, setting their luggage by the bed.

"It will do," Draco replied.

"It's _perfect_ ," Hermione gushed.

Draco watched her with a smile and subtly slipped the door boy a tip.

With the staff gone, Draco moved behind Hermione who was staring out of the window at the sprawling city below. 

"Are you happy?" He asked her.

Hermione leaned back into his chest as his arms encircled her waist. She hummed her approval and closed her eyes, completely content with her current situation.

"Tell me more. What is making you happy right at this moment? Be specific."

"Hmm," she pondered, turning in his arms and tipping her face up to stare at him. This view was even better than the one outside, she thought. She leaned into his hand as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "You touching me makes me happy."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes, every time we touch, I get this feeling, and every time we kiss, I swear I could fly."

Hermione watched his face for a moment, seeing his love for her in his eyes. 

Draco couldn't find the words to reply to that. Nothing in his vocabulary seemed to do it justice. 

Hermione rested her head on his chest. She could feel his heart beating fast under his shirt. He rested his head on top of hers, her curls tickled his face, but he didn't care. 

They stayed locked together for a few moments until Draco finally found words to respond.

"I will always need you by my side, Granger. When we touch, all I feel is static. Like my whole body is alight, and when we kiss… even after we stop, I still feel your touch in my dreams. I can't let you go, Hermione. I _won't_ let you go. I need you in my life."

Hermione reached up and brought his lips down to hers. When they broke apart, she spoke again.

"We've already been through so many good and bad times. Right now, it feels like your arms are my castle—your heart is my sky. You wipe away my tears when I cry. I need you in my life, too, Draco.”

“Pleased to hear it, Granger,” he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I have no intention of letting you go.”

“Good,” Hermione nodded. “Now please take me to bed," she smirked up at him.

"With pleasure," he replied, capturing her lips with his, picking her up and walking with her towards the bed.

* * *

Draco and Hermione spent the next few days thoroughly enjoying their hotel suite and making full use of the room service menu. While Draco wished the food would be able to appear without the help of a server bringing it to their door, the novelty of not having to leave the room was something he really enjoyed. 

After the first few days had passed, they ventured out to explore the city, take in the sights, and enjoy the local culture and cuisine. On more than one occasion, they had wiled away the afternoon in a delightful bar called _Delirium_ , their beer menu bottomless. They had also been back to Heksenweg twice, Hermione barely managing to convince Draco not to buy the most recent model of broom from the Firebolt collection. They had spent hours in the apothecary, relishing the difference in variety from the one in Diagon Alley. 

True to her word, Hermione had dragged Draco in and out of various chocolatiers, sampling different chocolates until her stomach hurt and she needed to guzzle down bottle after bottle of water. On one of these trips, they had stumbled upon a tiny little cafe with just two small tables for patrons to sit at. The warm, sweet scent was enough to lure them in. Behind the counter, there was an array of confections on offer, but the smell that had enticed them in was the steaming hot chocolate fountain next to the register. 

Hermione's eyes had grown wide watching the ebb and flow of the thick, velvety, deep brown chocolate of the fountain as Draco purchased two small cups.

They took a seat at one of the tables vacated while a petite woman poured their drinks and brought them over. Hermione bent over her cup and inhaled deeply before bringing the small teacup to her lips. As she sipped, her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Oh my," she said, licking her lips. "I think I just died and went to heaven," she sighed. "Mm, this hot chocolate might be better than sex!"

Draco had been enjoying watching her enjoy the chocolate, but when she said that, his jaw dropped.

"There is no way that this tiny little cup of chocolate is better than sex. With me," he added incredulously. 

"Try it," she urged him, her eyes darting from his mouth to the hot chocolate.

"Fine," he said, picking up the cup.

Hermione watched him closely as he tipped the cup to his lips. Moments later, his eyes widened, and he set the cup back down on the saucer. 

Hermione grinned at him. "Well?" She encouraged.

"It is not better than sex," he said, "but maybe you should give me your cup, too? Just to be sure."

Hermione giggled, and Draco felt his heart flutter at the sound. She was more than he could have ever imagined during all those years he thought of her. He had thought that he loved her back then, but he hadn't even scratched the incredible surface that was Hermione Granger. This week, she had left school behind; the books, the exams, and all of her stress and cares. This week, she had been light, carefree, and alive. She had been free of all of her usual constraints. Just a girl on holiday with her boyfriend, exploring a new city. 

In return, Draco had let his guard down, laughing and joking with ease, making Hermione fall in love with him all over again every day. He splashed money around, and she reprimanded him for it, but they had a truly fantastic time together, and it was with regret that the week had to come to an end and they would return to Hogwarts. 

Hermione observed Draco over the cup of hot chocolate that she absolutely refused to hand over. This week away from school and their everyday stress had been a godsend for him. He laughed, joked, and he spoiled her rotten, simply because he wanted to. He was generous to a fault. If she had even paused to look at something, he had offered to buy it for her—regardless of what it was, and often it was something she had no interest in. The attention he lavished on her, his whole demeanour this week was upbeat, and Hermione was strongly reminded of why and how she had fallen in love with him.

Cup empty and with a sigh, Hermione announced that it was time that they get going. They needed to get their luggage packed, check out of the hotel and start the long journey back to Hogwarts. They would arrive at Kings Cross a little earlier than she'd like, but that was better than being late, she reasoned.

During the weeks before the Easter break, they had encouraged rumours through the school that they would be staying at Hogwarts. Their parents were both under the impression that this was the case, too. So while they would need to be back on guard the closer they got to London, they hoped that their false trail would keep them safe. 

In the end, all of their cleverly laid plans were wasted.

They glided back into their hotel lobby, hand in hand, laughing together as they made their way towards the elevator and their room. 

"I wish we'd found that little cafe a few days ago," Hermione was saying as she slid the room key into the door. "I'd have loved to have more than one cup of that hot chocolate," she laughed, pushing the door open.

She stepped into the room, but Draco pulled her back sharply.

"What?" She asked, startled.

Draco pushed her behind him and took out his wand. Panicking, Hermione did the same.

Step after quiet step, Draco and Hermione crept through the entryway. Sticking his head around the corner, Draco visibly relaxed. His wand dropping and shoulders relaxing.

"Hello, darling," Narcissa's voice chilled Hermione's blood. How had she found them? "Enjoying your little holiday?" She asked as Hermione made herself visible. 

"How did you find us?" Draco asked, skipping the pleasantries.

"I have many friends in many cities, my love. You and Miss Granger were spotted more than once. And if I can find you, just imagine how easily your uncle could have. Really, I am disappointed. I thought that you had called things off with Miss Granger?" Narcissa picked at a loose thread on the seat she was occupying.

"He did," Hermione responded, her eyes conveying a warning. "After a month we decided that the decision to be apart wasn't really working for us."

"A month? Is that all?" Narcissa tutted. "Oh, Draco. I thought you could have done better than that. Nevermind, I've organised two international Portkeys. One will take Hermione back to Hogwarts, and the other will return you home with me. This is _quite_ the end of things, Draco,” Narcissa stopped her idle fiddling to fix her son with a stare that could rival Medusa. “You will finish the rest of this school year from the Manor. Be thankful you've had this week together because it's the last you'll have. Say your goodbyes, Draco, and pack your luggage. We leave in five minutes." Narcissa slid a polished button across a side table towards Hermione.

"Like _hell_ we do, mother. I've had enough of this _bullshit_. I am with Hermione— I _love_ her. You cannot come between us, not anymore!"

Narcissa smiled demurely at her son before flicking her eyes over to Hermione. She stood, smoothing her already perfect green robes.

"Do see sense, Miss Granger. Believe it or not, I actually find you very agreeable. I understand why my son feels the way he does. Surely by now, he has filled you in on the many reasons why you _cannot_ be together. Not the least that there is no way he can _marry_ you. I'm surprised, really. I thought you were a clever girl with a sense of life preservation. Is a teenage romance with no hope of a future really something you are willing to _die_ for?"

Hermione stared incredulously at the elegant older woman, who was standing in front of the armchair, all pristine robes and superior expressions. Hermione might be imagining it, but did Narcissa’s eyes hold a little bit of understanding behind their haughtiness? She _did_ confess to liking Hermione, maybe she wished that the situation wasn’t how it was?

"Do you think that I meant for this to happen?" Hermione asked, feeling suddenly bold. "I wasn't ready for my heart to fall the way that it did, but I can't deny it, Mrs Malfoy. I _won't_ deny it. You can take your son away from me now, but that won't change any of it. _Yes_ —I would be willing to die if it meant having Draco by my side, but we will find a way so that it won’t come to that."

Draco took Hermione's hand in solidarity. "Look at us, mother. Really look at us. Tell me what you see. I'll tell you what _I_ see; I see two people who could have it all. We're so fucking _right_ for each other when _everyone_ tells us it should be wrong." 

Hermione could feel a tremble in his hand. All she could see on his face was an impenetrable calm. The storm of emotions was hiding well under the surface. _Is this how he always is with his parents? So perfectly schooled?_ She wondered sadly.

"Draco, darling. You must start to see things. This just cannot _work_!"

"We will find a way around those curses, Mrs Malfoy. I know we will," Hermione said with a tremor. She wished she was able to be as calm as Draco, but she had far less practice. 

Narcissa had the audacity to chuckle, albeit quietly. "I see you have lost yourselves entirely in a world of fantasy,” Narcissa retook her seat and looked at Draco and Hermione as if she were addressing small children. “The only person who has _any_ hope of breaking those curses is the head of the family, and my darlings, you'll never have Lucius' approval for this match.”

Draco squeezed Hermione's hand that much tighter. She nearly winced but refused to give any such satisfaction to Narcissa.

"If we don't try, mother, we'll never know," Draco insisted. He leaned down and whispered in Hermione's ear. 

With a nod, Hermione dropped his hand and waved her wand. Their belongings started to gather themselves from around the room, folding neatly and lying flat in their trunks. 

A ghost of a smile flitted triumphantly across Narcissa's face.

Hermione shrunk their luggage down and slipped it into her beaded bag. The victory left Narcissa's face as she contemplated her son and his lover.

"If we never try, then we'll never know,” Draco repeated. “Love is love, mother. Please don't hate me for it," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. Taking Hermione's hand, he lunged for the button on the table with incredible speed. The Portkey was in his hand before Narcissa could move. As it started to vibrate, Hermione touched a finger to it.

"I'm sorry," she told Narcissa just before she felt the pull from behind her navel and the Portkey whisked them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This weeks song choices are:
> 
> Every Time We Touch - Cascada  
> Love Don't Hate It - Duncan Laurence
> 
> A shout out goes to Ribbonofsunshine for her excellent skills in the French language. Thank you, darling.  
> I'll see you all again in two weeks, right before Christmas!


	16. Dazed and Confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out & love to my Alphabet - MissyJAnne85 & Caitlincheri28. I love you & none of this is possible without you!
> 
> I just want to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I think we can all agree that this year has been rubbish and we cannot wait to tell it exactly which cliff to jump off of... Let's hope next year is a little brighter. See you all on the sixth!
> 
> No trigger warnings this week, lovelies! 
> 
> Spotify playlist has been updated with this week's songs (listed in the end comments) and can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=yjzOdYY0RXaRy1GTxtAxSg).

Hermione landed with a thud on the ground. Draco, barely managing to keep his footing, pulled her up. 

"Fuck me, never again will I use an International Portkey. That was brutal," he said, holding his head.

Hermione groaned in agreement. Together they walked towards the castle, the gates opening for them as if they were expected, which Hermione supposed; they were. At least, she probably was. If the Portkey had been arranged legally, Narcissa would have had to receive McGonagall's approval to get this close to the castle. 

Draco was quiet as they walked. Brooding, Hermione suspected. Their conversation with Narcissa had not gone well and was not how Hermione had hoped to start things off with the woman, but it was done now.

"Are you alright?" She asked him nervously.

"Would you like me to be honest, Granger?"

"Always," she breathed, "always be honest with me, please."

Draco looked down at her and then quickly away and back to the castle. They were almost at the entry point now. 

"No, Hermione. I'm not alright. I hated every single minute of seeing my mother in Belgium. From the moment I smelled her perfume, I knew it was all going to the dogs."

 _Oh,_ Hermione thought. _That's how he'd known it was Narcissa in the room._

"What are we supposed to do now?" He asked her, running his free hand through his hair, mussing it and making it stand on end. "We'll never get past my father. He'd rather die than let me marry you."

Stung, Hermione swallowed harshly. She must have flinched as well because Draco looked down and squeezed her hand. 

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I should have rephrased."

"No, it's alright. It's the truth, I suppose. Even if it is twisted and ridiculous. He's entitled to his opinions, just as we're entitled to ours. We have the upper hand in this situation, though."

"Do we?" Draco asked, pushing the doors open. "Enlighten me, Granger, because I must be missing something."

Hermione shrugged. "We're right, and he's wrong. If there is one thing I have learnt over the years, Malfoy, it's that if you are in the right, things usually tend to work out well for you."

Draco laughed harshly. "Maybe if you're on team Potter, Granger. We don't have that luxury, I'm afraid."

They were both silent as they climbed the numerous staircases to get to the fifth floor and their dormitory. Headmistress McGonagall was standing outside of their dorm, conversing with Anne Boleyn when they arrived. 

"Ah, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy. I see you've made it back in one piece. Have a good holiday, did you?"

"Er, yes, Headmistress, we did," Hermione blushed.

"Cut rather unfortunately short," Draco added, his tone hard.

"Yes, I must say that I am surprised to see you, Malfoy. I was informed by your mother only this morning that you would be finishing out the school year from home."

"Yes, well. My mother is still operating under the assumption that I will do whatever she asks without question. She has also forgotten that I am no longer underage and am quite capable of advocating for myself."

"Quite so." A small smirk graced McGonagall’s face before she returned to her carefully schooled neutrality. "Well, welcome back to Hogwarts, both of you. Classes start as usual at nine sharp on Monday. I’m sure that neither of you has forgotten that you are also responsible for arranging study guides for those participating in N.E.W.T’s and O.W.L’s this year, have you? Student’s tend to forget how quickly four weeks can go when they’re fresh off a spring holiday.”

"Thank you for the reminder, Professor. We're on top of it," Hermione smiled.

"Very well, I'll leave you to get unpacked. Good day to you both," McGonagall said, leaving them behind as she made her way down the corridor. 

Draco and Hermione shared a glance before they stepped through the portrait hole and into their living quarters. Hermione collapsed onto their favourite sofa and rested her legs over the back of it.

"My goodness, I'm tired," she said with a yawn. "That Portkey really took it out of me. Thank Merlin we still have a day before classes begin. I'll need that time to revise. There's no way I can concentrate on school work for the rest of tonight."

Draco stifled a yawn of his own and sat down next to Hermione, lifting her head onto his lap, he tangled his fingers in her curls.

"What are we going to do, Granger?"

Hermione didn't need to ask what he was referring to; they hadn't exactly finished their earlier conversation.

"We're going to keep on going where we left off. We will continue our research and adjust what we can to our new information."

"What new information?"

"That the head of the family holds all of the cards. We thought that we were looking into magic created centuries ago, which is partially true, but the magic must still live on—through your father. He's the head of the family, so, I believe that is something new to look into. Perhaps it is _the_ something we have been missing. Draco," Hermione sat up excitedly, "this could be the key to everything!"

"You really are something, Granger. Did you know that?" Draco threw her a wry smile as he sent his trunk floating up to his room. 

"I think I may have heard something similar to that effect before," she beamed at him, kissing him soundly on the mouth. After a moment, she settled back down in his lap. 

"I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I'm so lucky to have you. I still have to pinch myself sometimes, to make sure that you're here. We'd better find the answer to this curse, Granger. I'd like to be the first Malfoy man able to marry for love."

"Don't your parents love each other?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Draco scoffed. "I think once, maybe, but certainly not for very long, and it didn't start out that way for them. It was an arranged marriage, just like they usually are in the Sacred Twenty-Eight circles."

"How do you know that they loved each other once?"

"When I was younger, I watched my parents argue. They were in the garden, and I was looking through my bedroom window, I opened it just a little so that I could hear what they were saying. I saw my mother cry and curse in the wind. It was the first time I'd ever heard her use profanity. I was eight, and it still shocks me to think of it," Draco paused. Running his fingers through her hair, he continued, "My father, he turned and walked away—leaving her in the garden. She ranted at my father's back about breaking her own heart and needing to reassemble it. I watched my father carry on walking as if she hadn't said a thing—but I could see it in his face. It was like—like he was trying to never let himself forget. That moment, or that feeling, I don't know—but I've never seen him look that broken. Not before or since that day."

Hermione said nothing, just caught at one of his hands as it passed by her face. She brought it to her lips and planted a small kiss on the back of it, between his forefinger and his thumb. Draco smiled sadly down at her.

"That day, at the ripe old age of eight, I swore to myself that love didn't exist. That it couldn't—because all I could see, all I could _hear_ was pain where there should have been love. I've always lived like that, Hermione—keeping a comfortable distance. Up until the beginning of this school year, I had convinced myself that I was content with loneliness—because letting you in wasn't worth the risk."

Hermione's eyes started to water, but she pulled herself together. She wanted to be strong for Draco. This was the first time he'd ever opened up about his parents. The first time he spoke of his childhood. The first time he talked to her about the _feelings_ behind why he pushed her away—and not just the reason.

He smiled at her again, genuinely this time. "You, Hermione Jean Granger—you are the only exception, and I'm on my way to believing again."

Hermione sat up slowly, moving so that she had a knee on either side of his legs. She placed a gentle hand on either side of his face and kissed him sweetly for just a few seconds. Draco let his arms encircle her and hold her close. Resting her head on his, she struggled to find the right words to say.

"I've got a pretty tight grip on reality, you know, and I can tell you right now, Malfoy, and I hope you hear me—that I'm not going to let go of what I see in front of me here. You are mine, just as I am yours. Do you need further proof that this isn't a dream? That this is you and me, that we're together? Listen to me, _trust_ me. Your parents can say what they like. Let your uncle come after us, there's a whole flock of Aurors on his tail now, and we're getting prepared for all possibilities. So, stop thinking of the negatives, focus on the positives, and we will get through this—together." 

Draco watched her face and searched her eyes, and found nothing but sincerity and love. 

“Together,” he repeated and pulled her close, kissing her until they couldn't breathe. 

* * *

Hermione and Draco worked for an hour on the N.E.W.T preparation tables for their fellow students which were distributed throughout the first day of term. Whispers and gossip still seemed to follow them wherever they went, but after their confrontation with Narcissa, it all seemed like child's-play. They had bigger fish to fry and, now that they had a new direction for their research, Hermione felt like she could change their own timetables a little bit to reflect more time for their exams. 

"Do you think it will be ok to drop Friday evenings of curse research and add in more Arithmancy revision? It's my favourite subject, and I really want to do it justice," Hermione told Draco on a Thursday evening.

"How about we just alternate them? One Friday for Arithmancy, and one Friday for curse-breaking. I know the exams feel like they're more important because we're facing them right now, but I don't want to lose momentum on this," Draco replied pensively. There was a strain in Hermione’s voice that he didn’t like the sound of. The build-up of work was starting to get to her with the N.E.W.Ts impending deadline. 

"Yes, I suppose you're right. It's just that I'm starting to get a little nervous about the exams. They're creeping up really soon, and I want to do well. Not just well—I want an O on all of my subjects," she confessed.

"I have every confidence that you will be able to achieve that, Granger. You doubt yourself too much!"

Hermione sighed and leaned into his side, flipping through her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Arlidge had assigned them a three foot essay on the importance of defensive duelling - blah blah. She was feeling a little sick looking at what she'd written so far, she knew it wasn't up to par. She contemplated throwing it into the fire just to see it burn - maybe that would make her feel better.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked her. "You look a little green."

Hermione swallowed down her nerves and looked up at him. She was sitting on the ground, her notes and essay spread before her on the _Engorgio_ 'd coffee table. Draco was sitting behind her on the lounge, his head buried in an old journal of some distant relative. 

"Yes, fine. Just thinking of the exams and this damn essay. Why did it have to be on duelling?"

"Do you need some help?" He offered, sweetly.

"No. Thank you, but no. I just need to buckle down and get to it." Hermione said decisively, putting her quill to the parchment once more. 

"Why don't we take a break tomorrow instead? Invite some friends over, have a drink or two. We haven't spent any time with our friends since we've been back. It'll do us some good."

"But what about the Arithmancy?"

"You can get a couple of hours in before they get here," Draco reasoned.

"I—yes, alright then," Hermione conceded. "Who would you like to invite?"

* * *

The next evening, Hermione ploughed through her Arithmancy homework, getting as much done as possible before their guests arrived. It felt so formal to think of her friends that way, strangely mature - as if she and Draco were playing house. They were, she guessed. They did live together, and while they had separate rooms, they never slept apart. Aside from the odd class and mealtimes, they were always together. 

What would they do once they left Hogwarts? Hermione had just assumed that she would move back in with her parents, work for a few years and then find a place of her own. Now—now she had Draco to consider. After living with him for a year, it felt like a step backwards to go back to living separately. But what was the alternative? There was no way he could move in with her and her parents, and the idea of her moving to the Manor was just laughable. She still stood by the fact that they were too young to consider getting married, and that was really just a hop, skip, and a jump away from moving in together. Hermione groaned. What had they gotten themselves into?

Lost in her contemplations, Hermione was startled to find that Luna, Neville, and Ginny were standing in front of her—Draco standing just behind them.

"Earth to Hermione," Ginny called in a sing-song voice.

"Er, sorry everyone. I was a little lost up here," Hermione said with a smile, tapping a finger to her temple. With a wave of her wand, her homework flew up to her bedroom, and she moved in to give her friends a quick hug each. 

"Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini are requesting entrance," said the secondary portrait of Anne above the fireplace.

"I'll get it," Draco said, disappearing again.

"Drinks?" Hermione offered. With another wave of her wand, she conjured a table with snacks and a selection of drinks. Happily, she poured her friends their preferred drinks, selecting a red wine for herself and pouring two fingers of Firewhiskey for Draco.

"Looks good, Granger. I'll have one of those, too," Blaise said with a wink.

"Add another for me," said Theo, suddenly appearing next to her.

"Yeah, yeah. You're both perfectly capable of getting your own drinks, you know?"

"But you just look so good while you're doing it," Blaise said flirtatiously.

"Get your own fucking drink, Zabini!" Draco said, coming to wrap his arms around Hermione from the back. 

Hermione relaxed into his frame, and shrugged non apologetically at Blaise, cheekily reaching across him to hand a tumbler of whiskey to Theo with a wink before letting Draco pull her away. Blaise chuckled good-naturedly. 

If Hermione was nervous about her friends mingling with Draco's, she needn't have been. Hermione sat on one of the steps leading to her bedroom, sipping her wine, and observing their odd little party from afar. Ginny joined her, and together they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the atmosphere around them. In the strangest of pairings, Blaise and Neville had gathered in a corner, Neville animatedly explaining something to the Slytherin, his drink sloshing precariously onto the floor. Luna watched on bemused, and Hermione had an inkling that her friend knew precisely what Neville was talking about. Blaise needed to pick his jaw off of the floor several times as Neville said something new to shock him. The two young men laughed together as Neville shared his secrets. 

Draco and Theo occupied the sofa, a game of exploding snap between them. Theo, having already put quite the dent in the bottle of Ogden’s Finest, was losing spectacularly to a gloating Draco. A loud bang sounded through the room, and Theo yelped, jumping to his feet and proceeding to hop in a circle, his pant leg on fire. Draco was howling with laughter as Hermione went quickly to his aide. With the fire out, a small burn to his thigh mended, and his pants restored, Theo returned to his carefree state once again. Blaise managed to cajole everyone in the room into several rounds of the game with a new set of rules—rules he had adapted himself in an attempt to get everyone drunk. Hermione turned out to be an excellent player, hardly needing to take a shot at all. The evening passed in a blur of fun, drinking, laughter and ridiculous takes on wizarding games. It was refreshing, and just what Hermione needed to relieve some stress.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione regretted it all. She woke early - far too early and hastily conjured herself a bucket. There was no conceivable way for her to make it all the way to the bathroom in time to empty the contents of her stomach in the appropriate place. The third time she retched, Draco rolled over and sat up beside her, rubbing soft little circles on her back and holding her hair away from her face.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly as she vanished the contents and wiped her mouth. 

"I've been better," Hermione admitted, swiping at the water coming from her eyes. "I guess I shouldn't mix my wine with Firewhiskey," she laughed once without humour. 

Draco conjured her a glass of water which she accepted gratefully. As she sipped, she clutched her head. It was the mother of all hangovers; vomiting, headache and all over queasiness. 

"Thank Merlin, Morgana, and Magic that it's Saturday," she whined, setting aside the water and falling back against the pillows. "Someone really needs to invent an anti-hangover potion. They'd make a million galleons in their first year!"

"I'll get you a Pepper-Up," Draco said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"No, don't," Hermione said, reaching for his hand. "It's still early, and I'd like to try for a few more hours of sleep."

"Alright," he conceded, falling back into bed and pulling her to fit snuggly beside him. "It's just so odd. I don't remember you having that much to drink."

"Mmmph," Hermione agreed, "must have just been the combination. Plus, I didn't eat much at dinner."

"Hmm," he agreed, closing his eyes.

Several hours later, Hermione cracked open her eyes, feeling more than a little sorry for herself.

Draco looked up from his desk where he had been studying.

"How are you feeling, Granger?" He asked tentatively.

"Like shit," she responded.

"Hmm. Breakfast is over, but I saved some things for you," he waved a plate enticingly in her direction.

"Bacon?" She asked hopefully. 

Draco nodded once.

"Hashbrowns? Pancakes?" 

His eyes twinkled.

"Coffee?"

Hermione was slowly getting to her feet, but his grin had her moving faster than her brain and body could accept. She grabbed hold of the bedpost to steady herself. She waited a few moments before making her way over him and the delicious, yet nauseating smells coming from the plate. 

With a small moan, she fell upon the offered food.

"I love magic," she said around a mouthful of greasy breakfast foods. "It's all still hot!" 

With a small smile that hurt her head, she reached for the coffee. "What time is it?" She asked. 

"It's time for your Charms revision," Draco told her.

Hermione dropped the food back onto the plate. Charms was scheduled after History of Magic, which was after Ancient Runes. It must be well past noon!

"Why didn't you wake me?" She asked accusingly, cradling her coffee. She was desperate to have a shower, but her books were calling just as loudly. 

"You're not well today, you should take it easy and recover," Draco told her, his face the picture of concern. 

Hermione scoffed. "Exams start in just over a week, Malfoy. I haven't got time to feel sorry for myself. I just need to have a shower, and I'll be right as rain. Keep my coffee warm, will you?" She asked, clutching her head and leaving the room on unsteady legs. 

Draco watched her go with a shake of his head. If anyone was going to pass their N.E.W.T's it would be Hermione, even if she took the whole week off. She was one determined witch - which was just one of the many things he loved about her.

Half an hour later, Hermione arrived back in Draco's room, clad in her ridiculous fluffy pyjamas and giant slippers. Her hair hung in wet tangles down her back. 

"Feeling better?" Draco asked her.

"Minimally," Hermione replied, holding her thumb and forefinger a centimetre apart from each other to indicate just how little the shower had improved her well-being. "I'll take that Pepper-Up now, I think," she winced.

Draco moved swiftly to his cabinets and unearthed his store of potions. He located a neon-orange vial, neatly labelled as a Pepper-Up and handed it to Hermione, who accepted it gratefully. He watched her swallow it in one, steam rushing from her nose and ears. 

"Better?" Draco asked her, running his hand lightly up and down her arm.

Hermione considered, tilting her head from left to right—as if that could determine whether or not the hangover had lifted. 

"A little," Hermione finally answered. "Not as much as I had hoped, but enough to open up my revision."

Draco frowned. This was starting to sound less like a hangover, and more like she was actually coming down with something. Hardly surprising, given their Belgian excursions had been mostly accompanied by brisk April winds and large amounts of rain. Then upon their return to Hogwarts, she had been tireless in her pursuit of knowledge—both for school and for their current predicament.

"Maybe you should go and see Madam Pomfrey," he suggested, removing the book from her lap.

Hermione pulled the book back from his grasp and looked up at him. "I'm fine, Draco, really. I'll be just fine come this evening. Let's just get to work, and before we know it, it will be time for a break."

 _Not bloody likely,_ he thought darkly as he left her to her studies and went back to his own. Over the next few hours, he found his mind and his eyes wandering in her direction even more than usual. When she sighed and shifted positions for the hundredth time, Draco closed his book with a thud and turned to her. 

"That's it," he said. "We're going outside for a walk. We're going to get some fresh air and then be the first ones to arrive for dinner."

"A walk isn't on the schedule, Malfoy," Hermione rolled her eyes. "We don't have time for diversions. The N.E.W—"

"Are in just over a week, I know, Granger. But we're not going to make it to the exams if I suffocate you with my pillow for being so stubborn, are we?"

Hermione paled, but a small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. 

"I suppose not, no," she answered with a chuckle. "Ok, fine—but when we come back from dinner, we get straight back into it, alright?"

"Whatever you say, Granger. Whatever you say," Draco agreed with an air of nonchalance. 

* * *

They walked through the castle grounds together, hand in hand. Hermione hated to admit it, but this had been a great idea. The fresh air rolling off of the Black Lake had been just what she needed, the grass freshly cut and the flowers blooming smelled like new life; fresh and exhilarating. It put a spring in her step and a lightness in her heart. Draco felt the tension leave his shoulders as he watched Hermione transform in the early Spring air. This was what she had needed—to get out of their stuffy rooms and feel the breeze on her skin, see the birds flit from tree to tree, and watch the smoke twirl lazily into the air from Hagrid's cabin. 

She hummed, her magic and her happiness buzzing around her. She was a sight to behold. 

"Feeling better?" He asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Much," Hermione admitted. "How about you?"

"Hmm," Draco pondered, taking a seat in the dewy grass. "I think I'll be regretting this tomorrow," he said with a wink. "When you come in swinging like Apollo for all the study time we missed."

Hermione joined him on the grass, swatting at his arm. 

"I won't be able to see straight," he joked. "I'll hyperventilate when I see how much you add to the study guide and then my knees will wobble under the weight of books you give me. Seriously," he added with a wink.

Hermione tried to hold back her girlish giggle, but it escaped in a rush of air. 

"Just your silhouette with all those books will make me break a sweat. Fuck me, I'm in trouble. Let's turn around and hit the books, Granger. Some fresh air isn't worth it!" 

Hermione beamed at him, enjoying seeing him joke and have fun— even if it was at her expense. She eased on to her back and relaxed as she watched the clouds pass in a lazy dance across the sky. 

"I _am_ stressed about the exams," she told him. "I feel like I have been working towards them for my entire life—well, at least since coming to Hogwarts. I don't know how to _not_ be worried about them. Something in me just breaks at the thought of failing. I'm sorry if it feels like I'm no fun anymore. Once the exams are over, I think things will go back to normal," she said, pulling up blades of grass and rolling them between her fingers before flicking them away and starting over again.

Draco joined her on his back for a few moments before rolling on to his side to face her.

"You know exactly what you're doing when it comes to these exams, Granger. You're not the type that's used to losing - academically or otherwise. I, myself, can speak from personal experience; when you want something, you go after it, and you claim it. You're so capable of anything and everything. You can build me up, and with just a touch; leave me in complete ruins—"

Hermione started to protest, but Draco placed his hand gently over her mouth, effectively silencing her. Hermione's eyes danced in reproach as she considered him. He watched her carefully.

"There's just something about your eyes when I look into them, all these little flecks of gold stand out through the amber—and I feel like maybe I couldn't even walk in a straight line, as if I'm under the influence of Firewhiskey or something. I think I lost my head somewhere back in September when McGonagall asked me to be Head Boy. I wonder sometimes if I'd make different choices if I knew how this was going to go, that I'd love you, lose you, risk your life, and get you back again—but I'd do it again. So either I've seen the light, or I'm losing my mind—there's something about you, Hermione—that's got me dazed and confused."

He took his hand from her lips, and she rolled onto her side, better to face him, she thought. She watched him for a moment, those amber eyes darting across his face and landing again and again on his lips. She leaned forward and pressed against him. Hermione poured in all of her love and adoration, her past hurt and her comfort. She let her worries drift away, to be replaced by the scent and the feel of him. In this year that had somehow become just as dangerous as its predecessors, she had somehow found the man of her dreams. She had found Draco Malfoy. 

She pulled away and rested a palm against his cheek. "Sometimes I have to wonder if this is real life, or if I've got my head right. What will happen if I open my eyes? But there you are, just perfect in everything that is so you—so Draco Malfoy. We can do this, Draco. We will make it work. I can feel it in my bones."

"Merlin, I hope you're right," he said, pulling her to him once more and capturing her lips in a sweet little kiss. "Now let's go and get some dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Only Exception - Paramore.  
> Dazed and Confused - Ruel (please look him up, because he is amazing!)  
> Again, wishing you all a lovely holiday season!


	17. We're in This Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings apply for this chapter, please see the end note for them & this chapter's song list.
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to my always wonderful alphabet - MissyJAnne85 & Caitlincheri28 - who stand by me, encourage me & help me be a better writer and person. I love you both!
> 
> At the end of the chapter, I have a little surprise for you!
> 
> Spotify playlist is available [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=wcxSAnOgSnq2710JkFIGuw).

Hermione heaved a huge sigh of relief and placed her almost-blunt quill on the desk. She stared at the parchment in front of her, massaging her aching right hand with her left. That was the last N.E.W.T done and dusted. The clock struck the end of the three allotted hours, and her exam paper lifted and flew to the front of the room, collating on Professor Arlidge's desk along with all of the others.

"Well done, everyone," the young American woman said, standing at the front of the class. "If this was your final exam, congratulations! I look forward to celebrating your success and adding what I hope will be pass marks to your exam cards. Now get out of here and enjoy the gorgeous Spring weather!"

The students in the room cheered, almost all of them wearing a relieved grin—finally, _finally,_ the exams were over. Hermione turned in her seat, searching the rows for Draco's alphabetically assigned desk. She met his gaze, his face open and relaxed as he took her in. Slowly he stood from his seat and moved towards her, through the throng of students stampeding for the exit. Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken as desire swooped low through her abdomen. Morgana, he was gorgeous. She stayed seated, watching his approach with hungry eyes. When he reached her, he stopped and leant against the desk next to hers. 

"How did you do?" He asked her, crossing his arms over his chest and locking one ankle over the other—the picture of casual indifference.

"How did _you_ do?" Hermione quipped, her eyes dancing.

"Probably not as well as you did," he answered with a half-laugh, uncrossing his arms and holding them open for her. 

Hermione abandoned her seat so quickly that her vision turned black for just a moment, and she stumbled into his arms less than gracefully. Draco caught her easily and swept some curls back from her face. His eyes searched hers.

"Are you alright, Granger?"

"Yes, yes," she sighed. "Probably just my body adjusting to the idea of no more exams," she laughed once—quickly. "And I didn't eat much this morning—nerves, I guess,” she shrugged, “I'm absolutely ravenous now, though. Shall we get a picnic and sit outside?"

"I know just the place," he told her with a smile, the concern in his eyes not quite disappearing. 

* * *

Hermione lay back on the picnic blanket, her arms tucked behind her head. They were sitting in front of the Black Lake, right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The trees blocked most of the light from the sun, but not its warmth. She was full, happy, and tired. Between the exams, _studying for the exams_ , and finding absolutely nothing on the Malfoy marriage curse issue, Hermione had been sleeping badly, eating sparingly and stressed to the point of nausea. The fresh air, warm sun, cool shade worked wonders on her. A full stomach and the love of her life by her side just added to the bliss she was currently feeling.

"Happy?" Draco asked her, lying on his side but propped up on an elbow.

"Hmm," Hermione smiled in response, feeling a cool draught from the lake drift over them. "Happy and relieved. Now we can just wait out the next week of Hogwarts together. The exams are over, and all we have to do now is figure out what's next."

"Not to mention finding a way to break that curse," Draco reminded her—as if she had forgotten. 

"Mmmhmmm," she replied, not seeming to be worried at all. Her eyes were closed, and her hair fanned out around her head. Within moments, Hermione's breathing levelled out, and Draco realised with a start that she had fallen asleep. 

He thought maybe he would lie down next to her, and pull her to his side—curl around her as he did so often in their bed, but Draco knew he wouldn't sleep. He could stay awake just to hear her breathing, watch her smile while she was sleeping—far away and dreaming. Hermione twitched in her sleep, her fingers curling as if still holding a quill. He could spend his life in this exact same position, in this sweet surrender—because every moment spent with her was one he treasured. Instead, he lay down close to her and placed his hand softly over her heart, feeling it's steady beat beneath his palm. _What are you dreaming about, Granger?_ He thought with a whisper of a smile. _Is it me? Is it a good dream? Have we ended up with all we've ever wanted? Merlin, I'm glad that we're together. You make me happier than I ever knew I could be. I just want to stay here with you—in this moment forever. I don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall asleep—I'd miss this side of you. This peaceful, calm, blissful side of you. I don't want to miss a thing. Even if I did fall asleep, I'd still dream of you, but even the sweetest dream would never replace the real you. Oh fuck, we need to find a way to stay together. Merlin, help us find a way to break this curse._ Banging his head softly against his grassy pillow, Draco willed himself to find a solution.

Hermione chose that moment to snore—just once, and softly, but it was enough to break through Draco's inner musings and make him chuckle quietly. Carefully, he fit himself around her and lay his head next to hers and closed his eyes, letting the warm afternoon drift around him, the shouts and hollers of his exuberant classmates sounding in the distance.

* * *

Two days later and Hermione was feeling distinctly unwell. Her appetite had not returned, and the nausea was ever-present. She had been so sure that once the exams had finished, her body would be relieved; take advantage of the extra sleep, her more relaxed mood and the ability to spend all day in her pyjamas if she wished. Sadly, this was not the case. The stress from the last several weeks had finally caught up with her now that she had given herself a moment of rest. She was groggy, and tired, and sore in the strangest places. Her mood had also been hit and miss. Draco wanted to suggest that she go and see Madam Pomfrey, but the last time he had done so, she had snapped at him so fiercely, he thought he'd abstain on this occasion. Instead, he delivered a sandwich and a glass of water to her bedside table and made a hasty retreat back to the books and Theo who was waiting in the common room.

"How's she feeling?" Theo asked him when he came back. 

Draco shrugged. "She was asleep for once, so I got out of there as quietly as possible. I wish she'd go to the hospital wing, but she won't hear of it. Says the beds are far too uncomfortable and all Pomfrey will tell her is that she needs to rest. So I'm stocking up on some Dreamless Sleep in between all of this," Draco gestured to the mess of books, notes and quills scattered around them. 

"I mean, she's probably right, right?" Theo looked at Draco, his posture and attitude nonchalant. "Hermione is fucking brilliant. If it were something serious, I'm sure she'd get herself to the hospital wing quickly enough. Trust her, trust that she knows her body and this will all be over before you know it," he said in a comforting way.

Draco nodded, wishing he could agree, sipped at his almost cold coffee and opened up his book where he left off. Within a few moments, he snapped it shut again.

"Fuck this," he said. "I can't concentrate. She won't speak to me, but maybe she will speak to the She-Weasel? I'll send her a memo. Yes, I'll send one to Lovegood, too." 

Theo watched curiously as Draco searched for two small scraps of blank parchment and scribbled a note on each, charming them into paper aeroplanes and sending them off to their recipients.

"And? Did it help?" Theo asked, his brows raised as Draco turned back to his book.

Draco chose not to dignify his friend's humour with a response, turning the page of his book without even glancing up. Theo shook his head and rolled his eyes. He knew that the messages to the girls had done absolutely nothing to lessen Draco's stress over Hermione, and went back to his notes. 

Minutes or hours later, Anne Boleyn announced that “a Miss Weasley and a Miss Lovegood were requesting entry to the dormitory”. Draco bounded to his feet and all but ran for the door to let the two girls in. Ginny was carrying what looked suspiciously like a hot water bottle wrapped in something fluffy, and Luna was holding a tray of oddly coloured potion bottles. They looked at him expectantly as he took in their offerings. 

"Well," Ginny prompted. "Where is she?"

"Oh, err, in her room. But she was sleeping the last time I checked in. She might be awake now. Come on, I'll show you to her."

“We’ve got it from here, Malfoy. Move aside,” Ginny told him with more than a little sass. 

"What a lovely thought, Draco—but completely unnecessary," Luna added. "We know the way. Here," she said, handing him a bright pink potion, "for the Wrackspurts," she smiled at him in her dreamy way.

Draco took the potion from Luna, his face curious as he watched her ascend Hermione's staircase with Ginny. With a shrug, he flopped back onto the couch where Theo was staring after the girls.

"Reckon they'll get her back on her feet?" He asked.

"It's worth a try," Draco replied.

* * *

"'Mione?" Ginny called as she knocked softly on Hermione's bedroom door. 

"Ginny?" Came the response. 

Ginny pushed the door open to reveal herself and Luna, arms laden with items to help Hermione feel better. Hermione smiled genuinely at her friends.

"What are you two doing here?" She asked, watching them deposit their goods on her desk.

"We're here to help you feel better," Luna told her. "What exactly is the matter?"

Hermione waved her hand in the air carelessly. "Malfoy is being ridiculous. My body is just responding to the relief from study stress. You know how it is—you're fine all term, and then the moment you have a holiday planned, you come down with a cold. That's all this is."

"Hmmm," pondered Luna, sorting through her potions. "We really should run a diagnostic charm before administering anything to counter the effects."

Hermione waved her off. "I'm fine, Luna, really. Look, I even just finished this sandwich—and I don't feel like throwing up, so it looks like I'm on the mend! I’m so happy you girls are here, though. I could use some girl talk. Tell me what's happening in your lives." Hermione sat up against her pillows and patted the covers on the bed, inviting the girls to join her.

* * *

After two hours of chatting with Luna and Ginny, Hermione felt her energy flagging, and when her eyelids began to droop, her friends started to make their excuses. Their company had been a balm for Hermione's boredom. Mostly, she felt fine, but the moment she thought to get out of bed, the nausea would come for her again. Sleep was intermittent and never long enough, so she felt constantly drained. As a result, she was asleep before Ginny and Luna had even left the room.

Sometime later, when she woke up and decided that the sandwich wasn't sitting so well, after all, Hermione conceded to the idea of a diagnostic charm. She sat up, took her wand from the bedside table and waved it back and forth over herself in a complex manoeuver that left her wrist aching. A ghost-like version of her body wisped out of her wand and hovered next to what appeared to be a medical chart. Hermione studied the image of her body, all appeared to be in order, so she scanned the notes on the chart. Satisfied to see that everything was how it should be, she had been just about to vanish the projection when she saw it—reaching for the bucket beside her bed, she relieved her stomach of its contents. 

A few moments later, Hermione felt in desperate need of a hot cup of tea and the company of her boyfriend. Wrapping herself in her most comfortable bathrobe, she left her claustrophobic bedroom and padded downstairs to the common room. 

"Granger," Draco's face brightened as she walked into the room. "You're up—are you feeling better?"

Hermione winced. "Not really. Fancy a cuppa?"

"Sure," he said, dropping his book to the table and making his way over to their little kitchenette. 

"No, no. I'll get it—you finish up what you were doing. One of us should be working."

Hermione shuffled over and retrieved two cups from the cupboard and set the water in the teapot to boiling with a wave of her wand. As the tea leaves steeped in the hot water, Hermione found herself staring into the deep red liquid, her mind wandering. 

"Hermione—are you alright? Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She came to, still staring into the now dark teapot. She quickly removed the tea leaves before it turned too bitter. Draco was standing right behind her, one of his hands gently placed on the small of her back as he tried to study her face from the side.

"Yes, it's just that I think I've had an idea. A way to convince your mother to help us break the curse." Hermione smiled in a way that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well then, I'm all ears," Draco responded, taking the teapot from her and fixing a cup for each of them. Hermione took a seat in the corner of their sofa, and gratefully accepted the tea he offered her.

"So what's this idea, then?" Draco prompted, settling into the other corner of the couch.

Hermione licked her lips nervously and cradled her teacup with both hands. 

"Well," she started, "I was wondering if your mother might be willing to help us if we gave her some incentive?" She sipped from her too-hot tea and tucked a curl behind her ear nervously.

"That would have to be one hell of an incentive, Granger. What did you have in mind?"

Hermione took her time in replying, her throat catching on the words, her tongue felt twice it's normal size, and her lips had suddenly rendered themselves numb. Draco watched on expectantly. Somehow, she managed to stutter out the words, "What if there were to be a Malfoy heir?"

Draco's first reaction was to laugh. "Yes, that'd work, I imagine. Merlin, you're brilliant, Granger! But I don't think we'd get away with it for very long. I'm sure that there are spells to confirm these sorts of things," he waved his hand through the air.

"Yes," Hermione said, still clutching her cup, leaching the warmth that it offered. "There _are_ spells for it—I've just performed one."

Draco had been retrieving his tea from where it sat on the coffee table. It slipped from his hands and cluttered to the floor.

Hermione watched the fine china shatter over the hard stone floor, the tea seeping into the stone, and thought that it was fitting. Her mind hadn't been able to form one coherent thought since she saw the little pink dot in her midsection on the projection of her body. 

Draco stared at her, speechless for the first time that Hermione could remember. His gaze only left her face to trail briefly down to her stomach, as if he expected to see her belly round and full already, before trailing back up to her face. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed; shock, joy, horror, confusion, and a sudden understanding all jostling for first place in his mind. It was an eternity before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry? I think I need you to say that again. More plainly, Granger. My thoughts are running, and I can't seem to catch any of them."

"I'm pregnant, Draco. I don't know how, well—I know _how_ , but I don't know _HOW_!"

"Brussels," he trailed off, as a sudden rush of understanding gripped his body. "You weren't eating the food from Hogwarts for a whole week... I didn't think about it. How could we _not_ have thought about it?"

There was no colour left in Hermione's face to drain, but she felt a sudden wave of nausea at the realisation. She groaned in frustration.

"You're right. Of course, you're right. How could I have been so stupid?"

Distantly, Draco knew he ought to reach out to her, to comfort her, to tell her she wasn't stupid, that she was the most brilliant person he knew, but it was like his thought process was lagging. He was barely functioning. Hermione was pregnant. She was pregnant with his child. He was going to be a father. Holy fucking hell, he was going to be an unwed, teenage father—and if he was feeling all of this, how must Hermione be feeling? The realisation snapped him out of his reverie. He took her tea from her and pulled her close, settling her on his lap and resting his forehead against hers. 

After several precious moments, he spoke. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione felt the bubble of nervous laughter escape her before she could stop it. "Like shit," she answered honestly. "Fucking hell, I thought I was just stressed over the exams, but a baby is growing inside of me. A real-life, honest to goodness baby, draining all my energy and making me want to vomit—all the fucking time!"

Draco took her face in his hands and swept the hair from her face, tilting her head so that he could look her in the eyes. Hermione refused to meet his gaze at first, reluctant to see what was written in them. She had no idea how she felt about this... predicament, and she sure as shit had no idea how _he_ was feeling. Looking into his eyes felt like a dangerous trap—a trap for feeling something other than complete and utter shock over this happening. As little as she had considered marriage, she had considered children even less. Children were something for the future, something for when she had left school, had a dream career and was financially independent. Children were not for _now_. Losing herself in Draco's eyes was a trap that she couldn't resist, and she felt herself meet his gaze. He searched her soul, found what was lying there, picked it up, and carried it home. Hermione burst into tears. 

Draco held her while she cried, understanding that she needed time—hell, he needed time, but he wasn't the person growing a whole other human inside their body. As he held her, he began to whisper in her ear— things he felt, things he thought, things that were soon to come.

"This might feel impossible, but it isn't. Everything seems to matter so much more now—the two of us, all used and beaten up after the war. Well, look at us now—is this fate giving us a way to follow the path that we have chosen? It won't be easy—my father will try to pick and pull things apart, but Hermione, this could be great. Now we have even more to fight for." Draco paused to hold her as she sobbed against his shoulder. He smoothed the hair back on her head as he felt her chest wracking and heaving against him. "You and me, we're in this together now—none of them can stop us now, and we will make it through somehow. It's you and me, Granger. You, me, and this baby. If the world should break in two, it will still be me fighting for you.” He rested his hand gently against her abdomen. 

The farther he fell, he was beside her. As lost as he was, he would find her, the deeper the wound, he would heal her. Forever and ever, Draco Malfoy was now a part of Hermione Granger.

Hermione sniffed against his shoulder—his words impacting her just as much as their situation. She clung to him, unsure what she was feeling, other than despair. Could this pregnancy somehow be a blessing in disguise? Could the way that she had told him _actually_ be an avenue that they explored? Could she have a baby and feel something other than resentment towards it? She pulled back and studied his face, wishing she could feel some of the positivity he was radiating. She looked at him, running her fingers over his fine cheekbones, and considered how much she loved him. This baby was as much him as it was her, and if it was even fifty percent of him, she knew she could love it unconditionally. Suddenly, things didn't seem so bleak, and she found herself peppering kisses all over his face before meeting his lips desperately. Draco responded in kind, wishing to convey to her how much she meant to him, what creating a family could mean for _them_. He had been shocked in the moment, but his overriding emotion was pure ecstasy. He would make this work. He would make it all work for _his_ family. He would take care of Hermione, and he would take care of their child, and he would be a better father than Lucius had ever been. 

As Hermione nuzzled against his neck, she felt herself fading, exhaustion taking over. "What are we going to do?" She whimpered, as sleep started to take hold.

"I'll figure it out," he told her. "I won't let you down."

* * *

Graduation would be held on the Hogwarts grounds just before dinner the following evening. The results from their N.E.W.Ts were impending—to be revealed to each witch or wizard just before the ceremony. However, Hermione was completely preoccupied with the little life growing inside her. The shock had worn off, and while she could admit that the situation wouldn't _normally_ be ideal, she was happy—when she wasn't vomiting. Hermione thought about the timeline and realised that she must have been about six weeks along. She really should be seeking some sort of medical attention, but the thought of going to Madam Pomfrey or even to St Mungo's brought on another bout of nausea and a round of dizziness. She'd need to find a muggle midwife or obstetrician to help—she'd need to tell her parents. Oh, Morgana help her. She would sort all of this out as soon as they graduated. 

Hermione and Draco had settled on a plan. They would finish out their time at Hogwarts without telling a single soul about the baby, graduate and meet with Narcissa at Florean Fortescue's Icecream Parlour in Diagon Alley. Draco had sent an owl to his mother just yesterday to arrange the time and place. They'd disembark from the Hogwarts Express for the last time and make their way straight there. Unwilling to Disapparate in Hermione's condition, they would be making the trip via muggle taxi and on foot. They had hope that Narcissa would be able to assist them, and happily so when she learned that she would be a Grandmother—maybe it wasn't happening in the way she would prefer, but Draco felt confident that Narcissa would feel an instant connection and willingness to protect her own blood.

It was the best, most solid plan that they had to date, and Hermione couldn't help the bubble of hope that she seemed to be living in for the last few days. The situation wasn't perfect, but she was choosing to look on the bright side of everything. As Draco was over the legal wizarding age of seventeen, he had already been given a certain amount of control over the Malfoy fortune. He would be able to find them a suitable place to live on their own; giving them their best chance of a happy life together with their baby. Marriage was something they had decided to discuss at a later date—though Draco was hoping he could convince Hermione to have a ceremony before the baby was born. All of this depended, of course, on the curse being broken. All plans hinged on Narcissa being happy about their situation. A big risk in Hermione's point of view, but one that they had to take. 

"What are you thinking, Granger?" Draco asked, approaching her from behind and wrapping his arms around her. He rested his palms on her still flat stomach as if he'd be able to feel something there already. Hermione thought him adorable and sweet as she leaned back into his embrace.

"I'm thinking about our graduation tomorrow and all that comes after," she told him with a smile on her face. 

"We have a bright future ahead of us, I'm sure of it," he responded, a smile of his own gracing his handsome face. Hermione had been seeing a lot more smiling instead of smirking this last week. It was a change she could get used to. 

"Just a few weeks ago, I was worried about what would happen to us after graduation. How would we be able to continue our relationship outside of this castle? Now we have a plan, and I'm so hopeful that this could all work out," Hermione confessed in a rush, turning in his arms and locking her hands around his neck. She tilted her head back to better look in his eyes. Draco rubbed her nose with his—once, twice—in an affectionate gesture, before leaning down to catch her lips in a sweet and soft kiss.

"Granger, If I could, then I would—I'd go wherever you'd go. You've run away with my heart. You are my hope, and you have my love. _All_ of my love. Now I know how my life and love might still go on. It will live in your heart, in your mind. So I'll stay with you for all of time."

"And I'll stay with _you_ for all of time," she promised in return, dropping her arms from his neck to pull him closer and nuzzle into his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - unexpected teenage pregnancy.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to Jaxx_ina_boxx for completing this absolutely gorgeous commission for me!  
> Songs this chapter are:
> 
> Don't Wanna Miss a Thing - Aerosmith (only a cover by Chris Klafford is available on Spotify)  
> We're in This Together - Nine Inch Nails (available on Spotify) but Tara Rice does a lovely cover if you would prefer something softer  
> Wherever You Will Go - The Calling


	18. My Only One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is boys, girls & all non-binary readers. This is the big one. The catalyst - the chapter I have been dreading since I started this little fic. I can't even begin to tell you how hard it was to write. Heavy trigger warnings apply in this chapter, so if you have any sort of sensitivities, please skip to the endnotes (at the risk of spoilers) and make sure that you are properly forewarned. 
> 
> As always, the Spotify playlist has been updated with this week's songs and can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=0mscVwZzSx2YakVnJvdiyQ).
> 
> As always, all of my alphabet love is extended towards the wonderful MissyJAnne85 & Caitlincheri28 without whom, I would be constantly flailing and triple guessing myself. I love you both.
> 
> And, as a bonus - from this week, I will return to posting weekly!

Hermione was handed her final scorecard early the next day. She held her breath as she unrolled the parchment to reveal her grades. A quick scan revealed that she had managed to receive an 'O' in every subject. Draco had done almost as well, receiving just one mark short of a perfect score with an 'E' in Muggle Studies. 

The feast held for the graduating eighth-year students was grand. Any and every dish Hermione could wish for was available at her fingertips, just waiting to be eaten. As the level of noise in the hall escalated and the main meal was cleared from the tables, Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat to address her pupils.

“Good evening, students,” her strong Scottish accent warbled through the crowd. “I trust that you enjoyed this evening’s fare? Yes? Good,” she nodded as her students responded appropriately. “We are celebrating this evening in such style because tomorrow morning we say goodbye. We will be wishing our eighth-year students every success as they leave this castle and their Hogwarts studies behind them. This group of students has seen more ups and downs than you currently know,” McGonagall paused here. She met Hermione’s eyes and inclined her head ever so slightly. “Hogwarts and it’s professors have never experienced a string of years quite like the past eight— war aside. Somehow—” She lingered here, a coy smile playing on her thin lips, “through all of their trials and tribulations—I am proud to announce that _every single_ eighth-year student has successfully passed their N.E.W.Ts!”

The Hall erupted in cheers. Hats were tossed in the air, fists banged on the tables and feet stamped out a raucous beat on the stone floor. The jubilation of her peers rocked Hermione to her core—it was infectious. She met the eyes of her classmates and friends on Gryffindor table before letting her eyes wander the Hall, finding her friends scattered all over it. Her heart reached out to them all as she joined in, clapping and cheering.

McGonagall lifted her hands high in the air, indicating that she was not quite finished speaking. 

“I am not one for fickle words, as you well know. I do not often share my innermost feelings with my students, but on this one occasion, I feel the need to do so.” Once again, Hermione felt her mentor’s eyes connect with hers, and her heart lurched. “I am proud of you, my dears… So very, very proud of you.” Almost as if she had to stop herself from saying more, McGonagall took her seat again, signalling for the desserts to appear. 

Tears stung Hermione’s eyes as she held McGonagall’s gaze for several moments more.

* * *

The after-party was something else entirely. In all her years of Hogwarts, Hermione had never witnessed such blatant disregard for decorum or school rules. Every single eighth-year student seemed hell-bent on either making their last night one they would remember, or one they would forget come morning. 

Hermione poured herself two fingers of Firewhisky, intending to carry it with her through the whole night. This would serve two purposes; no one would ask her if she needed a refill, and no one would ask her why she wasn't drinking—so long as they weren't paying too close attention. 

"Hey, Hermione," Dean approached her.

Hermione smiled in response. She hadn't spoken to Dean since the debacle of the Valentine's Day party and wasn't sure if they were on good terms or not.

"Hi, Dean. How are you?" She asked, genuinely interested. 

"Pretty good, actually. Managed to pass all of my classes by some miracle. Can't believe it's all fucking over, to be honest. I bet you did really well, though." Dean's eyes glittered knowingly.

"I'm very pleased with my results, yes," Hermione confirmed. "You know, I—"

"Ease off, Malfoy. I was just about to congratulate _your_ witch on her final exam results. A purely platonic conversation," Dean looked up into Draco's eyes, his own flashing with anger. Draco had spotted Dean talking to Hermione from across the room and had made a beeline for them. There was no way he was letting Thomas put his hands on Hermione ever again. 

"Then you won't mind backing up a step, will you, Thomas?" Draco sneered at him, coming to stand very close to Hermione.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "It's alright, Draco. There's nothing to be worried about between Dean and I, is there, Dean?" Hermione smiled at her friend, hoping to convey an air of casualness to put Draco at ease. 

She wished she didn't notice the steel in Dean's eyes as he replied, "Of course, not." Draco didn't miss it either, and his eyes narrowed on his classmate. 

To his credit, Dean didn't cower under Draco's glare or his overbearing body language. He simply continued to speak to Hermione. "So, I wanted to ask you to keep in touch, Hermione. I feel like we've gotten to know each other pretty well in the last eight years, and I feel like I'd miss you if you weren't around."

Draco's eyes flickered dangerously. Feeling him tense next to her, Hermione absently took his hand and squeezed once in reassurance. 

"I'd like that, Dean. Very much. I look forward to staying friends with you," Hermione smiled confidently, ignoring the way that Draco's hand clenched around hers. 

"Good," Dean said, and quickly before he lost his nerve, he leaned in and kissed Hermione on the cheek, before disappearing into a mass of people. 

Hermione blushed but held tight to Draco's hand as it twitched against hers, knowing that if she let go, a hex would be heading Dean's way. 

"Just calm down," she told him. "He was only being nice. Besides, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. You are all this baby and I need," Hermione reminded him, resisting the urge to sweep her hand against her stomach in the way that had become a recent habit. Draco caught her hand in his and brought it to his mouth for a quick kiss. He held it to his face for a moment, a hint of a smile forming.

"Alright," Draco admitted. "I am finding out that maybe I was wrong. Just because _I_ could never be just friends with you, doesn't mean that you can't be just friends with other guys. Will you stay with me, though? For the rest of the party, I mean. That’s what I need," he hesitated briefly, vulnerably, before adding, "please?"

Hermione smiled up at him, her hand still cupping his cheek. "This heart," she dropped her hand to her stomach briefly. "My heart," her hand rested above her left breast. "Beat for only you. My heart is yours. Do you hear that, Draco? It's the sound of our hope. This time, I hope you're listening. Now let's go and enjoy our last night of Hogwarts."

* * *

Several hours later, Hermione and Draco had left the party and fallen into bed. Draco lay on his back whilst Hermione curled into his side, trailing her fingers over the buttons on his shirt.

"Can you believe this is our last night at Hogwarts?" She asked him, unable to believe it herself.

Draco gave an undignified snort. "I never thought I'd see the day if I'm honest. How do you feel about it?"

"Emotional," Hermione responded honestly. "In good ways and bad. This place has been the start of so many new things—adventures, learning, friendships—"

"And near-death experiences," Draco added dryly. 

"Probably a few more of those than your average teenager," Hermione admitted with an amused sigh.

"So, Granger." Draco shifted on the bed, getting comfortable. "Is there anything I can do for you to make your last night at Hogwarts memorable?"

"Oh, I can think of one or two things," she grinned salaciously as she popped the buttons on his shirt open. 

"Happy to oblige, Granger. Happy to oblige," he repeated. Draco sat up quickly and changed their positions. With Hermione on her back, Draco hovered over her. His eyes raked her body as he tattooed this image of her into his brain. Her curls fanned out on the duvet beneath her, eyes clouded with lust, the last of a laugh dying on her lips as she licked them in anticipation. Deftly, Draco tugged her pretty violet blouse out of the tight white skirt she wore. He leant down and planted velvety soft kisses over the surface of her stomach, imagining that the tiny life inside could already feel his love for it. Slowly, lovingly, he moved down her body, pulling her skirt down as he went. 

Draco lavished her thighs and the apex between them with his love and his desire until Hermione's toes curled into the sheets beneath her and her mouth screamed his name, her hands buried in his hair. He kissed his way back up her body; slowly, rhythmically, deliberately taking his time to tease and set her skin alight. 

Still coming down from her high, Hermione was in no state to fight the sensation of fire racing through her veins. Under his touch, she gave as little resistance as a hand running through water. When his lips reached hers, she met him with all of the enthusiasm she had in her, rolling them back over and finally divesting him of the shirt that was still open on his shoulders. Draco used his ankles to make short work of his pants while Hermione removed his boxer shorts, freeing his gorgeous cock for her inspection. 

Hermione ran her fingers up and down its long and hard silky length while Draco relaxed under her touch. Her thumb pressed over the head of his erection, smearing the precum as she went. Draco's eyes landed on hers, drinking her in and sating his thirst with the mere feel of her beneath him. Gently he entered her as if he were suddenly afraid to hurt her. Hermione wriggled beneath him, drawing him in to his hilt, her hips arching off of the bed to meet him all the way.

He was surrounded by her, submerged by her and drowning in all things Hermione. She overwhelmed him in all the greatest of ways. The love he felt for this witch would be the undoing of him, he realised, not for the first time, as he collapsed against her shoulder. He kissed her neck as he moved gently inside of her. 

Hermione moaned into his ear, and when he looked at her, she was biting her bottom lip. 

"Is this alright for you?" He whispered as if it were their first time.

Hermione's eyes flicked up to his, quickly and full of wanton desire. 

"No," she whispered.

"No?" Draco reeled, never expecting to hear her say that. He started to pull away, to slip out of her, but Hermione held onto him, her fingers digging into the flesh on his back. "I—" Draco stammered. "I don't understand. What do you want?" 

"You," she answered. " _All_ of you. Don't hold back, Draco. I'm not suddenly a delicate flower. Right now, I need you to _not_ be gentle with me."

Understanding swept through him, even as his apprehension did the same. Maybe she didn't want to be treated like a delicate flower, but in his eyes, that was what Hermione was now. His strong, capable, fucking amazing girlfriend was now carrying his child, and all signs pointed towards being gentle. However, he had learned from his mistakes and not listening to what Hermione Granger wanted was _always_ a mistake.

His cock twitched inside of her as he contemplated their position. "Would you like me to fuck you, Granger?"

"Gods, yes," Hermione answered her voice pleading, keening for him.

Swiftly, Draco flipped her over and pushed against her shoulder blades, bowing her body in front of him. He'd never had her like this before. Never been able to see his thick dick sliding in and out of her. Never been able to admire her arse as it slapped back against his hips. 

Hermione whimpered and mewled as he pushed into her from behind, his hips snapping against her pert little arse as she tightened around him. Already, he was falling apart, feeling her walls flutter against him. But no, she'd wanted to be fucked. He fisted his hand into her curls at the base of her neck, tugging her head back and causing her to make the most erotic sound he'd heard from her yet. It was primal, and she pushed back against him with renewed vigour. 

"Fuck," Draco cursed as his needs took over and he pushed into her faster, teetering against the edge of the bed unsteadily. "Fuck," he repeated. He released her curls, bringing his hand back to find her clit. Hermione hissed in appreciation, grinding now against his fingers and his cock, her coil tightening.

"Yes, Draco—just like that, yes." She whimpered into the bedsheets, her hips snapping back and forth erratically. Just as Draco thought he couldn't keep it together any more, Hermione keened and her walls clenched around him. Draco came with a grunt moments before Hermione slid bonelessly onto the mattress in front of her. Draco slipped out of her, their commingled juices still dripping over his pulsing member. He gave in to his trembling knees and collapsed onto the bed next to her.

Hermione turned her head to face him, his eyes inches from hers. Hermione imagined that the dreamy quality they had taken on was mirrored in her own. 

"That was fucking fantastic," she murmured against the sheets. "We should definitely do it like that more often," she said, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a shy smile. 

“Consider this a promise, Granger,” he winked at her, a cheeky smirk firmly in place.

* * *

As the last item of clothing folded itself into her suitcase, Hermione took a moment to look around her bedroom of the last year. She wanted to make one more trip to Gryffindor tower, too, and say a proper goodbye to not only it but also the memories inside of it. The N.E.W.T's were over, and so was the school year for all of those in the eighth, but it would still be a month before the rest of the students finished their term. Hermione wanted to take a moment to say goodbye to the place she had called her home away from home for so long, to soak in the last vestiges of her childhood here. 

She met Draco in his bedroom as he finished packing up his trunk. In the common room, Hermione stopped and trailed her fingers across the back of the three-seater sofa—their sofa. The first place they had had sex and shared so many other tender moments. There, by the fire, was the spot she had stood as Draco had yelled at her; confessing his love in a burst of anger. There was an inkspot on the floor, a stain that hadn't been removed from when he had told her their relationship was over. This couch was where she had sat, curled into herself as he spilled his soul, and she discovered that her love for him eclipsed her desire to live. Here, on this couch, she had told him that he was going to be a father.

"Are you alright, Granger?" He asked, seeing the tears glisten in her eyes.

"Do you—do you think we could shrink this down and take it with us? Will it be missed, do you think?"

Draco huffed out a short laugh before he realised that she was serious. He came back to her, placed his hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down soothingly.

"I think that there are many things that you, Hermione Jean Granger, could get away with at this school, but blatant theft of property may not be one such thing."

An irrational sob escaped Hermione's throat before she could stop it. Alarmed, Draco pulled her close and held her tightly in his arms. Hermione wriggled out of his grip and wiped furiously at her eyes. 

"Oh for Merlin's fucking sake," she said angrily. "These fucking hormones can go and jump off a fucking cliff," she stomped her foot as Draco attempted to hide his smile.

"Breakfast first? You can go up to Gryffindor tower once you've eaten something and had a cup of tea, alright?"

Hermione nodded, agreeing as her stomach rumbled enthusiastically at the idea of food. Still swiping at her eyes, Hermione moved to follow Draco to the door. 

“Be right with you,” she called as he walked ahead. Unable to help herself, she turned and took one last look at the common room. A quick twist of her wrist and the couch was small enough to slip into her book bag— which is exactly where she put it. With a last wave to Anne Boleyn, Hermione and Draco left the Head's living quarters for the last time ever. 

The Great Hall was rowdy when they entered, eighth-year students excited to be going home, despite the several hangovers occurring amongst them. The sight of Draco and Hermione together no longer garnered a response from the student body, and they went their separate ways with nothing but a small kiss on the cheek from Draco to Hermione. She was still feeling deliciously raw from the way he had used her body the night before, a slight spring in her step, despite the ache. However, by the time she joined her fellow Gryffindor's at their table, her smile could definitely be categorised as wobbly. This would be the last time she sat at this table, with these people, in this place. Suddenly, tears were springing to her eyes, and she was crying into her cup of tea. Several sets of eyes flicked to her, alarmed, but Hermione was comforted to see that Parvati's eyes were also glistening with unshed emotion. In fact, as she looked around the hall, she spotted several people with wet and red-rimmed eyes, even as they laughed and joked with their friends. This really was the end of an era for them. Ginny rubbed her arm affectionately as Hermione picked a piece of buttered brown toast and plain, scrambled eggs to pile on her plate. 

"Ok, 'Mione?"

"I will be," Hermione sniffed, reaching for her napkin, but finding Parvati's hand instead. The two girls clasped hands briefly before pulling away. This had been one hell of a ride; their time at Hogwarts. Grabbing up her napkin, Hermione bought it to her eyes and nose before setting it down and picking up her fork. Ginny squeezed her knee quickly in encouragement and picked up her own fork, spearing a sausage in a manner far too much like Ron. Hermione was forcefully reminded that he and Harry were missing from the table, and another sob threatened to escape. She took a fortifying gulp of her too-hot tea and forced the sob down. It would not do for the Head Girl to be a blubbering mess on her last day of school. She needed to set a good example for her peers in all that she did. That included giving them no reason to wonder whether or not there was another, different reason for her runaway emotions. 

Miraculously, Hermione managed to focus on filling her stomach for the rest of breakfast, rather than her impending departure from the castle, her makeshift home for the best part of the last eight years. She even managed to laugh along with her classmates as Seamus blew his coffee cup metres in the air with a loud bang and a puff of smoke "For old time's sake," he insisted. This time, Hermione was wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Before the Great Hall emptied, Hermione turned and met Draco's eyes across the hall. With a nod, he signalled that it was time. Hermione excused herself from the table and her friends and met Draco outside of the Great Hall.

"Are you ready?" He asked her.

Not trusting her voice, Hermione nodded to him. Draco took her hand and squeezed it once before moving off to the Slytherin common room, as Hermione started the long trek back to the seventh floor to say goodbye to the Fat Lady and Gryffindor Tower.

Her eyes clapped onto the worn red lounge suite, the trampled maroon and gold rug before it. Her eyes started to swim in tears as the ghosts of her past danced to life around her in a whirl. Here, where she stood, was where Neville had fallen as she'd petrified him in their first year. Over there, that was where Harry would spend time writing in Riddle's diary before they'd known what it was. Hours and countless more hours had been spent on the floor in front of the stained coffee table, her books and parchment spread across it as Harry and Ron begged for her help with homework, and how she'd refused when it came to Divination. 

There, that was where they had stood cheering and clapping for Harry as he brandished a large golden egg into the air of the crowded room. Her eyes flicked back to the worn sofa, where she had insisted Harry soak his hand in the Murtlap juice after his "detention" with Umbridge. 

Unbidden, the ghost of Lavender Brown found Ron after his first Quidditch match and made a move that had been too bold for Hermione at the time; reaching up around her friend's neck and bringing him down to meet her lips in a sloppy, uncoordinated and heart wrenching first kiss. As if they were real, Hermione waved her hand through the air, banishing the memory and choosing to see all of the good times she'd had in this room instead. She walked the length of the room, letting her fingers trail over the furniture much as they had in her own living quarters of the last year. 

When she turned for the door, it was with a smile on her face and a lightness in her heart.

Back in the Great Hall before the breakfast hour was over and classes began, Hermione managed to wish Ginny and Luna a tearful goodbye, promising them both that she would see them soon and that this summer holiday would be the best one yet. 

* * *

Draco and Hermione disembarked the Hogwarts Express with their wands drawn and their eyes casting around nervously, unsure if they needed to be on guard or not. For safety's sake, they watched each other's six as Draco summoned their luggage, and Hermione shrunk it down to fit into her beaded bag. When nothing appeared to be amiss, they grasped hands and vanished through the barrier of Platform 9 and 3/4. 

On the busy streets of London, Hermione hailed a small black taxi cab with little difficulty in front of the busiest International train terminal. Draco put his snitch searching skills to work and scanned the crowd around them, wand concealed in the arm of his light-knit grey jumper. He had been so sure to expect _at least_ his uncle at Kings Cross today, and yet, there was no sign of him or any other dark wizard. Maybe Potter's team of hidden Aurors had done something to scare him off. The moment that he and Hermione disappeared into the taxi, they were on their own; the Aurors leaving to other more important tasks or to continue their surveillance of the area. 

Hermione hadn't told Harry of their meeting with Narcissa this afternoon. The secret that they wanted to share with Draco's mother was not something Hermione was prepared to let Harry in on—just yet. 

Hermione sensed their driver casting them strange looks in the rearview mirror as they gave him the location of their required drop-off site. She knew that the run-down and vandalised old shop on Charing Cross Lane hardly seemed like a place a young couple would need to be. Still, she was hoping he wouldn’t ask too many questions. While the location was not far, the fare would be decent due to the middle of the afternoon traffic. The silence was heavy and the heat in the car stifling. The cab driver could assume what he liked as he watched Draco staring out the window and absorbing the scenery. Hermione watched the driver’s greedy eyes as they continued to sit in traffic, watching his meter grow in the silence of the cab. 

Hermione was tense, and Draco's leg was twitching minutely against hers, adding to her anxiety. This meeting with Narcissa would be make or break for them, in a way. Without Narcissa, they could kiss their chances of breaking the curse goodbye. Traffic lagged, and with each passing minute, the tension in the back of the cab climbed. 

Hermione was just thinking of sticking her head out of the window for some fresh air when the driver pulled over and indicated the storefront that was the Leaky Cauldron in disguise. She fumbled in her purse for too many tenners and handed them to the driver with shaking hands. Taking Draco's hand in hers, Hermione darted a look left and right and stepped out onto the busy London street. 

Together, they slipped into The Leaky Cauldron, through to the courtyard and the entrance of Diagon Alley without incident. Neither of them was able to relax as they traversed the familiar cobblestones of Diagon Alley, eyes flitting from face to face, wands tightly clasped and ready for any sign of a threat. 

As the icecream parlour come cafe came into view, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it to their destination—so far unscathed. Hermione eased the green door open while Draco glanced around furtively, slipping in behind her and spotting Narcissa in a booth close to the kitchens.

Draco's mother stood when they entered. Narcissa stepped to the side of the booth, smoothing her robes before clasping her hands together in an elegant gesture. Hermione made a beeline for her while Draco took his time to make sure that there was no one else in the small cafe. Narcissa sat on one side of the table while Hermione took the other. Narcissa tilted her head a fraction to the side as she contemplated Hermione. Moments later, Draco joined them, taking his place next to the best thing that ever happened to him.

"I must confess to being curious," Narcissa started. "Our last meeting did not end well, and while it broke my heart to think it, I did not think I'd see you again for some time, my Dragon." Narcissa extended an arm across the table towards Draco, palm up in invitation.

Draco hesitated for less than a second before he reached over and rested his hand in his mother's. He knew that she only wanted what was best for him, that she loved him with her whole heart. He loved her, too—but if things did not go to plan today, this might be the last time he held her hand. He would treasure it while he could.

Narcissa's face softened as the warmth of Draco's skin sunk into hers. Casually calculated, her eyes flicked over to where Hermione sat rigid against the faded leather seat. Draco rested his spare hand high on Hermione's leg, willing her to relax beside him as he kept an eye on the door. 

A pot of tea appeared on the table with three teacups. Unsure of what else to do with her hands, Hermione picked up the teapot and poured them all a cup while mother and son had some sort of unspoken tête-à-tête.

"So, darling. What can I do for you?" Narcissa asked, addressing Draco.

Hermione couldn't help but be taken aback by how friendly Narcissa was being. After all, their last encounter, as she had said, did not end well. Maybe she had taken the last month and a half for some quiet reflection on her son's decisions?

"Mother," Draco cleared his throat. "Hermione and I, we, well—we have some news."

The slight pink blush drained from Narcissa's face like mercury in a thermometer, and she took a quick, sharp breath. She held it as her eyes slid fraction by fraction from Draco to Hermione.

"What news?" She asked, her tone as hard as the stone floor beneath their feet. 

Hermione noticed that Narcissa's eyes had darted down to her left hand and back up again. She wriggled uncomfortably in her seat. It was hot in here, wasn't it? She pulled at the collar of her blouse, attempting to let some air pass through. 

"We're going to need your help, mother."

"Is that so?" Narcissa didn't even flinch as Draco spoke again, her eyes appeared to be locked on Hermione's face.

"Yes," Draco shifted nervously. "You're going to need to talk to father about breaking those curses."

Now Narcissa did look at her son, the corners of her mouth turning down in a frown. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you're going to be a Grandmother," Draco told her. His voice coming out strong and confident, despite the silent tapping of his foot under the table.

Narcissa took a full moment before she reacted. She was at war within herself. Finally, she wiped a solitary tear from her right eye, cleared her throat, and said. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Hermione said, picking up her teacup. She sipped at it and watched Narcissa over the brim of the cup.

"There are _very_ easy ways to determine whether or not you're telling me the truth, Miss Granger. Draco, please do not lie to me about this."

"We're not lying, mother," Draco assured her. His foot stopped tapping, and the hint of a smile played on his mouth. He reached back across the table for her hand again. Tentatively, Narcissa reached out, too.

"I—I'll arrange a meeting with your father immediately. I—a _Grandmother_ , really?" Suddenly Narcissa was gushing. "This is very irresponsible of you both, but I find myself unable to care. I—"

The kitchen door blew off its hinges with a _Confringo_ so powerful, that it flew through the front window of the shop. Narcissa yelped and ducked below the table. Draco threw himself over Hermione, shielding her as the dust and debris settled around them. 

Narcissa pulled Hermione under the table with her as Draco stood to see not only Rodolphus but Dolohov and Rowle step through the smoking kitchen entryway.

" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Hermione tried. Nothing but a small wisp of silver light appeared. Summoning all of her happiness, she tried again. When the otter burst from her wand, she simply whispered, "Aurors office. Death Eaters, Fortescue's, Diagon Alley." With a nod, the otter swam through the air to find its recipients. 

"Oh dear, nephew," Lestrange drawled. "I do think we have an _extra_ problem now, don't we? Make no mistake, Draco, your father will have no half-blood for a grandchild. So—"

Hermione risked a peek from under the table. Draco was standing there alone, facing off against the three uncaptured death eaters. While Rowle and Dolohov were casually gripping their wands, Lestrange was cocky in his movements, juggling his wand from one hand to the other. 

"—what are we going to do about this little inconvenience?" He had every confidence that he had them outmatched. 

Well, Hermione had taken on worse than the likes of the three of them. Ignoring Narcissa's strong tug on her ankle, Hermione emerged from under the table.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the filthy little Mudblood who thinks she's good enough to be a Malfoy," Rodolphus spat.

Draco turned sharply to look at her, his eyes pleading with her to take cover even as she drew herself to her full height and held her wand steady. 

Most surprising of all was when Narcissa appeared by her side, wand drawn and ready to face off against the men who once stood beside her, her body angled slightly in front of Hermione's. Draco copied his mother's stance, standing protectively in front of the woman he loved, who carried his child.

Rodolphus laughed out loud, while on either side of him, Dolohov and Rowle sniggered. 

"So, nephew. What has the Mudblood got that keeps you so interested? Has the Golden Girl got a golden snatch?" Lestrange laughed at his own joke.

Draco started forward, his wand raised, but Narcissa stuck her hand out in front of him. 

Rodolphus pouted, "Come on, sister. I'd like to hear what your son has to say. Let him throw some words around—his daddy sure would like an explanation. I bet he still can't give us a reason."

Draco growled. "Hermione's got more worth in her little finger than you've had in your entire life, _uncle_ ," he spat out the last word.

"Oh no, nephew. You're making mistake after mistake in your life—you really let your aunt and I down—not to mention your own parents. You've run your whole life into the ground. I'm here to help you pick it all up."

Narcissa drew in a sharp breath, anger sparking in her eyes for the first time that day. "You will do _well_ not to speak for me, _brother_ ," Narcissa invoked the same tone of voice her son had used.

Hermione was aware that several people had Apparated outside with a crack just beyond the window of the parlour. Dolohov and Rowle looked at each other once before throwing some protective wards over the shop. Hermione was sure that it wouldn't be long before the Aurors outside had them down, though. Her confidence soared as her opponents' plummeted. Hermione could see the doubt flickering in Dolohov's and Rowle's eyes, even as she saw the mania in Lestrange's.

The shop front rumbled as counter curses were thrown at it. This, above all else, seemed to snap Rodolphus out of his ravings. He raised his wand towards her. Adrenalin pumped in her veins as she did the same. All six witches and wizards inside the shop were duel ready, and the spells started flying.

Draco gently pushed Hermione behind him as coloured curses and hexes weaved around them. Hermione threw up protective shields one after another while Draco and Narcissa took on the offensive side of the spell work. The lights streaking through the air lit up her eyes and her battle reflexes. She had done this before and conquered—she could do it again. 

One of her _Protego's_ shattered as Narcissa was flung through the air and through the glass of the shop front, landing on the hard stone street with a sickening crunch. 

"Noooooooooooo!" Draco screamed for his mother as the team of Aurors was granted access to the establishment. Someone outside kneeled down by Narcissa, cast a protective charm over her body and Disapparated with her. Hermione hoped they were going to St Mungo's, but she didn't have the chance to think about it for too long.

Despite the overwhelming numbers against him, Hermione saw that Lestrange was just as crafty with his wand as Bellatrix had been. He had been holding back before, Hermione realised with a jolt as several Aurors fell before him. The chaos intensified as the numbers started to even out again. All three Death Eaters still stood, fighting their way through the shop and out onto the street as Aurors lay motionless on the floor and Draco and Hermione fought for ground against them.

" _Stupefy_ ," cried Hermione for what felt like the tenth time in minutes. She watched in delight as the red beam hit its target and Dolohov fell to the ground unmoving. Cracks of Apparition rent through the air as more Aurors descended on the battle. Draco felled Rowle with an ingenious piece of wordless magic. Their eyes met across the street, hope rising as reinforcements arrived. Now it was just Lestrange against them all. 

Hermione grinned victoriously at Draco as she spotted Harry and Ron across the way, their wands pointed at Rodolphus, ready to take him down. 

Time slowed. Rodolphus whipped his wand through the air in a movement Hermione hadn't seen before, a teal beam of magic erupting from his wand just as the ropes from Ron's wound around him and he was hit with a _Stupefy_ from Harry.

Distantly, as if she was a bystander, Hermione saw the magic barrel towards her. She looked up at Draco as he stared in horror, their eyes connecting as his legs started pumping.

"Hermione," he yelled in warning—in alarm, in terror. He screamed his lungs out trying to get to her before the curse did, to get to his only one. 

The magic hit Hermione in the stomach. Her wand clattered to the ground as she clutched at the untouched skin, the damage working its way through her insides instead. Her legs buckled beneath her, giving way on the cobblestones, she tilted sideways and fell. 

Draco couldn't make it to her in time, he watched helplessly as Hermione collided with the ground, her hands wrapped protectively around her waist, failing at shielding the life within.

He reached her seconds later even as an eternity had passed between them. He cradled her head in his lap as the blood pooled between her legs and stained the street beneath her.

"No, Hermione, _no_. Fight, _stay with me!_ " Draco pleaded, yelling at her as she lifted one hand from her torso to brush against his face. A sob escaped him. " _Help me!_ " He cried out, willing _anybody_ to come to their aid. 

His whole world erupted around him as Hermione's hand slipped lower down his face. Still, she kept her eyes on his, a ghost of a smile creeping across her face. How could she see into his soul, look deep in through his eyes, as if they were open doors? They led her down into his core, where the numbness was setting in and taking hold. Without her, he had no soul—it would be sleeping somewhere cold—until she found it again and brought it back home.

"Hermione," he broke down as her eyelids fluttered. "You can't just leave me—" the words caught and choked their way out of his throat. Draco was frozen inside. Without her touch, without her voice—Hermione was the only life among the dead that was his life, and now she was slipping away, even as he cradled her against his chest, willing his body to breathe life back into her. 

Her eyes lifted back onto his as she forced them open again. Harry and Ron had finally arrived, reaching for her, taking her from him.

"Don't let me die here," she whispered, blood foaming from her mouth as Ron lifted her away. With a crack, they were gone. Draco sat still on the street, surrounded and covered in blood, his arms reaching for where she had just been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost - the TW!
> 
> Grievous bodily harm occurs to both a minor and major character in this chapter.  
> Theft (minor - sort of) 
> 
> Song List:
> 
> My Heart - Paramore  
> Only One - Yellowcard  
> Bring Me to Life - Evanescence


	19. Arcade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge shout out to MissyJAnne85 & Caitlincheri28 for being my emotional and mental support and getting me through this chapter & making it better.
> 
> If there was ever a time to listen to the songs of this fic, now is the time! This chapter contains the song the fic was named after -- all songs used can be found in the endnotes and listened to here on the [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=uvMKrbA-RvCdeq8BOgwwcw).
> 
> Time to get serious. There are major trigger warnings in this chapter. Please check the endnotes for more information.

Draco stood over Hermione's body. Her curls fanned around her deathly pale face, helping to distinguish where she lay on the stark white sheets. Her chest rose and fell regularly, as it should. Her eyes flickered beneath their lids. Her chart ebbed and flowed exactly how it was supposed to according to the Healers clad in lime green. So why wasn't she waking up? Trauma, they had told him when they eventually allowed him in. 

For the first week, only her parents had been allowed in to see her. Draco had sat outside of her room day and night, scarcely eating and only occasionally venturing home to the manor to bathe. 

His mother was fine. Revived, bones healed and sent home to recover from there. She had already been taken care of by the time Draco had stumbled into the reception area following Hermione's departure from Diagon Alley. 

Hermione had not been so lucky. The Healers didn't know what Rodolphus had hit her with. They thought it likely that it was a curse of his own creation. Certainly from his holding cell in Azkaban, Lestrange was offering up no clues. Having said all of that, Hermione was doing considerably well. The Healers managed to repair her organs and keep them functioning as they should, and after they had told her parents that they were unable to save the baby —well, that was when they had allowed Draco into the room, even if it was with a stern look. Their conversations had been limited and muted. Draco was unable to bring himself to think of anything other than their loss and how fragile she looked in this big room, on a small hospital bed with all the colour leached from her features.

Most days, Draco was not alone with her. Her parents visited every evening, and Potter and Weasley both flitted in and out—Weasley much more than Draco would like. Still, he couldn't bring himself to be snide or snarky to them. Together they had tackled his uncle and brought him down, even if it was a second too late. Mostly, he sat, and he stared at Hermione, holding her hand until he could imagine it twitching in his, or he fell asleep. The Healers had gotten used to finding him this way, gently shaking him and sending him home for the evening.

Hermione had lost a lot of blood before she had arrived at St Mungo's. The blood-replenishing charm that they used on her was helping, but its effects were not lasting as they should. Three times a day the spell was performed. The Healers had told them that the charm was helping her blood cells to regenerate, that with some time she would be back to normal, but that it didn't explain why she wasn't waking up. Then came the Mind Healers. They cast complex charms over Hermione's head, a picture of her brain floating in front of them. Little golden lights would spark in certain areas as they prodded her, and they would mumble to each other, but never fully explain what was happening—at least not to Draco. 

So it was with great hope and anticipation when Draco started to notice a little bit of colour on Hermione's cheeks and a warmth in her hand that wasn't from holding his. 

* * *

Three days later, she opened her eyes slowly. The glaring white light of the hospital room made her shut them again immediately. Draco didn't see this happen as he was watching their clasped hands, but then Hermione twitched, and it was a movement all her own. Hardly daring to believe it, even as adrenalin sang through his body, Draco continued to stare with wide eyes at their interlaced hands. Then Hermione groaned, and Draco stared with wonder at her face as she started to wake up properly. Clutching his wand, he called for the Healers. 

Moments later, Hermione was trying to sit up as her door opened, and two Healers stepped in. They rushed to her side and assisted her into a comfortable position, offering her water immediately after.

Hermione gratefully accepted. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool, scratchy and dry. _It must smell terrible,_ she thought distantly as her eyes danced around the room. They landed first on the Healers, then on the hordes of flowers, before finally landing on Draco. Tears swam in her eyes as the Healers asked her what she could remember.

" _Everything_ ," she replied, her voice hoarse and broken. Slowly, she looked down, her hands moving to her stomach. She continued to look at Draco, the tears leaking from her eyes. "The baby?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Draco's bottom lip wobbled as he sucked in a lungful of air. Tears clung to his eyelashes as he cupped her cheek in his hand. The Healers offered what little privacy they could, whilst checking her vitals on the other side of the bed. Gently, he shook his head—just the once. He was unable to hold her gaze but equally powerless to look away.

A sob rose and choked in her throat as she curled in on herself, shying away from Draco's touch. Hermione closed her eyes, and wished it all away, wished it was all just a nightmare instead of the fresh hell of reality. The Healers spoke their charms over her, monitored her vitals and updated her charts. One started to back out of the room as Hermione's sobs encompassed her. The other threw Draco a sympathetic look. 

"We'll give you some privacy, inform her parents, and return with some Dreamless Sleep potion," she said as she inched her way out of the room.

Draco nodded in response, the numbness already stealing over him. Hermione was awake, and that was all he had wished and wanted for the last two and a half weeks. But with her waking came the grief, fresh as he shared it with the only other person who could possibly feel as he did. He had never seen Hermione fall so completely apart before. Draco moved onto the bed behind her and held her as her tears soaked the pillow and her body shuddered against his. 

Draco held her against him, his face pressed into her curls, somehow still soft and gently perfumed with the jasmine that he loved so much. He held her there and pressed gentle kisses to her shoulder as her sobs started to subside.

A gentle knocking rapped on the door. Neither of them said a thing, but it cracked open anyway. Hermione's mother stuck her head through, her father followed not a moment after.

Hermione saw them, pulled in a lungful of air and started to cry again. Draco looked up at them helplessly as their eyes darted from their daughter to him and back again, before hurrying to her side. 

Draco didn't budge from his position on the bed, his eyes shining as Hermione's mother stroked the hair back from her daughter's eyes, and brought a handkerchief to her face. Her father placed a heavy, comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, sending his love into the pressure he held there. 

Minutes or hours later, Hermione swiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to sit up in bed. Draco scooted back to his chair and reached for her hand. Hermione slipped her fingers from his and asked for a glass of water.

Trying not to read too much into the gesture, Draco retrieved her glass, magicked some water into it and handed it to her, watching her face all the while.

"How—how are you feeling, sweetheart?" Her mother asked, brushing the dampness from her own eyes.

"I don't know," Hermione croaked, her throat still rough from disuse and despair. "It all feels like a living nightmare." Her lips trembled, and she raised the glass to them to cover it—to give her something to do with her hands that wasn't touching Draco. "I—I'm tired, though. How long has it been?"

"Just over two weeks," Draco supplied, his eyes averted from her face.

A sharp intake of breath from Hermione and a pause before she asked. "And your mother?"

"She's fine. The last of the bruises are fading, and she is safe at home."

Hermione nodded. "And," she stuttered, tried again, "and Rodolphus?"

"Potter and Weasley got him. He's rotting in Azkaban now. Good fucking riddance."

Hermione's father cleared his throat loudly. Hermione and Draco glanced up at him. 

"Er, pardon my language, sir," Draco said, a blush creeping up his neck.

"Draco, I wonder if you might be able to fetch us all a cup of tea? Jean and I rushed straight over here as soon as we got the call," he said, his eyes conveying a different message. 

They wanted to speak to Hermione on their own. Well, he could give them that, even if leaving her room for just a minute would feel like the Earth was quaking under him. Offering them all what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he gave his chair to Jean and left the room in search of tea. 

* * *

The door closed behind him, and he wondered for a moment if he should press his ear to it. Deciding against it, he took off down the corridor. He would do the right thing and inform Potter and Weasley that she was awake, then he would make the tea.

"So," Hermione's father started. "That’s Draco Malfoy."

Hermione met his eyes and nodded. "Yes," she said.

"He's incredibly handsome," her mother gushed nervously, "and tall. Goodness Graham, isn't he tall?"

Hermione blushed at her mother's description of her boyfriend. Well, she wasn't wrong.

"Yes, very tall. And he's completely in love with you," her father stated.

"Did—did he tell you that?" Hermione asked quietly. 

"He didn't need to," Graham responded. "The boy has barely left your bedside in weeks."

Hermione wanted to smile but couldn't bring herself to. Her mother stepped slowly towards the chair Draco had vacated, lowered herself into it and reached for Hermione's hands, still curled against her stomach. Hermione held her mother's hand. One of them was shaking, but Hermione couldn't tell who. 

Slowly, Jean looked up from their intertwined hands and into her daughter's tear-streaked and blotchy face. She was still beautiful. 

"You were pregnant," she said. Not a question, not a statement, not a comment—those three words were packed with a pain only a mother could feel on her daughter's behalf.

Hermione sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded once in confirmation. _Yes_ , she thought, _I was_. The words wouldn't come from her mouth even though they were the only ones swimming around in her brain. _Was, was, was._

"And you were happy," her father came to stand by her mother's side. He offered a hand to his wife, and his other to his beautiful little girl—because even though she was now a grown woman, she was still his baby.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, drawing blood, and offered another little nod. Yes, she had been happy. But now...now she was empty.

"Do you love him as much as he loves you?" Her mother asked.

More tears welled in Hermione's eyes. She held her mother's gaze as she gave one final nod.

"Maybe—" her father started, casting his eyes away. "Maybe this is better, a —"

Suddenly Hermione found her voice. "Don't you _dare_ say a blessing in disguise," she hissed at him. Vehement, she pulled her hand from her mother's grasp and folded her arms across her chest. 

"I wasn't going to," her father replied. That was a lie, he had been going to, but he knew it was wrong of him before Hermione had stopped him. He cleared his throat. He would never wish this loss upon anyone, let alone his only daughter. He looked away, ashamed. He only wanted what was best for her.

Someone knocked on the door, and despite the awkward air in the room, Hermione still hoped it wasn't Draco. Looking at him now was like watching her heart shatter. She'd barely been able to endure his touch as he held her earlier. Their loss screaming through her mind at the mere thought of him.

It wasn't Draco, it was a Healer, offering her the Dreamless Sleep potion. Hermione gratefully accepted and took the vial from him. Without another word to her parents, Hermione drank its contents, settled back into her pillows and drifted. 

* * *

When she woke, her parents were gone, but Draco remained. She swallowed and closed her eyes again. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked quietly. 

"Empty," she said, even her voice was hollow. "You?"

The simplicity of the question had him reeling. How _was_ he feeling? All of this time he’d been by her side, unable to think of anything other than her, her recovery and lack thereof, and the loss of their baby. He’d already had two and something weeks to process it all, but had it helped? 

"My mind feels like a foreign land," he admitted quietly. "My whole body is numb, and I can't get past the silence ringing inside my head."

Hermione shifted on the bed, offering a small grunt of appreciation. She felt the same way. 

"Why won't you look at me?" Draco whispered.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because when I see your face, I see a little baby in your arms. A baby with blue-grey eyes and a mop of platinum curls, _and it is killing me._ "

Draco stifled the sob rising in his throat, the sound coming out as more of a choke. He turned to the window and watched the sun as it was setting in the sky. It was several minutes later, the sun almost gone when he spoke again.

"Would you like me to leave?"

"Yes," Hermione said quickly. "No," she added a moment later. "I don't know."

Draco stayed in his seat by her bed. It was dark in her room before either one dared to say anything else. Draco didn't light the candles, and Hermione didn't cast a _Lumos_. Everything was easier in the dark.

"Have we spent all of the love we saved?" He asked her, regret coursing through him. He didn't want to hear her answer. He already knew it.

"It has just been one thing after another, Draco. A fight we can't seem to win. With—without the baby, your father will never help us. We're back to square one. We're never going to get through this. Obstacle after obstacle without anything other than love to get us through. From day one, the odds have been stacked against us. I think we've used up all our chances."

When Draco didn't reply, Hermione dropped her head into her hands, letting her tears drip through and onto the sheets. So this was it then, the final piece of the puzzle no longer missing, but incapable of the fit. She had been just a small-town girl, trying to find her place in the big arcade that was Draco Malfoy's world.

"Were we always a losing game?" Hermione addressed the silent room softly, swiping at her eyes.

A tear rolled down Draco's cheek. "Yes," he replied reluctantly. He'd always known this was how it was going to go, hadn't he? Isn't this why he'd fought so hard at the start? He'd seen this end before they had even begun. Yet, he'd carried on and loved her still. They had both been addicted to this losing game. 

"Yes," he repeated, standing and moving to the door. "I love you, Hermione. I think I will probably always love you.” Draco paused, seemingly unable to continue. He gripped the doorframe, letting it support his weight, his hold so strong that his knuckles turned white. Several gut-wrenching moments later, he continued, his voice ragged, “ _I grieve with you_. But maybe this time love isn't enough. I—I hope you'll be happy. Goodbye, Granger."

Draco closed the door softly behind him and leaned against it. He heard Hermione's cry on the other side and stifled his own. All this time he had been a pawn in his own life, no not a pawn—a pawn has strength in numbers. He turned out to be the king after all—limited movements taken out in one swift action. All he knew now was that loving Hermione Jean Granger had always been a losing game. A broken heart was all they each had left, and he could only hope that maybe one day they'd be able to fill the cracks.

* * *

A week later, Hermione was sent home. Her mind ached, her body ached, and her heart _ached_. How could she have loved something so much after such little time? The loss of her child felt like a loss of self. The loss of Draco felt like her future had been ripped away from her. 

Communicating was difficult.

Eating was a chore. 

Showering was torture. 

Ron and Harry visited. Hogwarts finished, and Ginny joined them. Luna and Neville too, occasionally. Hermione couldn't bring herself to smile. Her words were limited. Still, her friends came. She wanted to see Draco. She wanted to hold him, to tell him she was sorry. To get back to how they'd been. But just as much as she missed him, the little life that they had planned out haunted her. Seeing his face now would be no different than it was when she woke up. Would this grief ever end? She didn't know, how could she? Her brain rationalised while her heart raged. Her heart had been broken so many times in the short span of a year—it had been broken and it had failed her, but her mind never had. She'd face a war against herself and make sure that her brain came out the victor once more. She wouldn't see Draco. She wouldn't cave or give in. She’d place him in a dark green box, and put it away. She would be strong. For herself.

* * *

Draco allowed himself one extra week of despair, locked inside his room. One week and he'd keep his promise to his mother—go outside and get some fresh air. In his dark room, he brooded. He tore things apart with his bare hands and smashed precious artefacts against the walls. He grieved his loss; the loss of his child, of Hermione, of the life he’d hoped to have. He meant what he said. He wanted her to be happy, hoped that it would be possible for her, even if it wasn't for him. 

As his allotted week came to a close. He gathered a piece of parchment, his favourite quill and a small inkpot and wrote a quick message.

_Will you meet with me?_

_DM_

He slipped it into an envelope and attached it to the leg of his magnificent Eagle Owl, Aquila, and sent it on its way.

Two hours later, Aquila was back at the window, a small scroll clutched in his talons.

_When?_

That was all it said and all he needed it to say. Draco fed his owl some treats and let it rest for an hour before he scribbled a reply with a place and time. Turning in for the night, he finally felt like he was doing something good.

* * *

Narcissa was delighted when Draco stepped into the drawing-room at tea time. He had bathed, shaved his face and even donned clean clothing. It was the first time she had seen him so well put together in nigh on a month. But it wasn't for her, he had said. He was going out. He wasn't sure how long he'd be, but he suspected it wouldn't be more than a few hours. 

"Goodbye mother," he placed a quick kiss on her cheek and left for the reception room. Stepping into a fireplace, he threw down the Floo powder and stated, "The Leaky Cauldron."

When he had broken up with Hermione in January, he had hated himself. He had hated himself so fiercely for it all—for hurting her, for being the one who had put them in that situation. He had been responsible for all of the decisions then, never giving Hermione a choice. This was different, the decision to separate had been hers—and while it went against every fibre of his being, Draco respected it. He respected it because he had expected it. It was always meant to be this way. He had never deserved her, never deserved to even enter her orbit. He would take what he had, cherish it, and give her back everything he possibly could. Three and a half weeks ago, his world had come crashing down. One week ago, Hermione’s had. Today, he hoped to assist in rebuilding hers.

Ronald Weasley was already at the bar, inhaling a late breakfast alongside what appeared to be a bowl of black coffee. Draco spotted the shock of red hair easily and slipped into the stool next to him.

"Weasley," he nodded.

"Malfoy," came the clipped response. 

There was a pause while Draco placed his coffee order, "Espresso, thank you, Tom."

"You wanted to meet?" Ron prompted as Tom set the small cup and saucer before Draco, lingering as if hoping to overhear their conversation. Draco shot a cold look at the barman before he hovelled away to serve other mid-morning customers. 

"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about Hermione."

Ron grunted and placed his knife and fork down on his empty plate. Wrapping his hands around his bowl of coffee, he said, "I figured as much. What? You want me to back off? Disappear? Stop being her friend? Whatever it is, Malfoy, you can forget it."

Draco smirked despite himself. Things would never change between him and Ron. He could live with that.

"The opposite, actually," he drawled, slipping once again into old habits. He chastised himself—he had meant to do better. To be better.

"Whatchu mean?" Ron asked, looking at him for the first time that day.

"You made her happy once. I was hoping you would try to do so again." Draco turned the little cup in its little saucer. Round and round it went while he waited for Ron to pick his chin up off of the bar. 

"You—you're saying that you're giving up? That you don't want her anymore?"

Draco hissed. This was harder than he'd thought. "I'll _always_ want her," he managed to say. "But I'm not good for her. There are obstacles we cannot overcome. I know you love her still. I saw your Valentines letter. Besides, how could you not?” Draco lifted his espresso to his mouth, scrutinising Ron from behind the small white ceramic cup. Setting back down, he attempted to downgrade his glare. “She is the greatest gift the gods ever bestowed. So, what do you say, Weasley? Will you try to make her happy?"

"Why?" Ron asked, drinking deeply from his coffee.

"It's time to move on. I need to let go. I can't keep hurting—I don't want Hermione to keep hurting. I thought you should know—I won't get in your way. I just want what's best for her."

Ron started to chuckle, quietly, but he was chuckling all the same.

"What?" Draco demanded, his voice hard.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you're just giving up on her? That you're just going to walk away and _stay_ away? Fuck, Malfoy. I am smarter than that, despite what you think. What, are you suddenly fine now? Not all cut up like you were in the hospital?"

Draco took a moment to reply, draining the dregs from his cup.

"I am not fine, Weasley. I am _far_ from fine," he growled. I am falling apart—I can't deny it. Coming apart at the idea of leaving her. At the idea of my life without her. At the idea of her with _you_. But maybe if I burn this bridge, she'll be able to breathe—” Draco stared into his empty cup. He took a moment to breathe himself. Calling on years of trained composure, he continued, “maybe, if I do this... We can start to pick up the pieces and heal from our stitches."

The colour drained from Ron's face. Malfoy was being honest for once in his miserable life, yet, he couldn't quite believe it. "Why should I believe you?"

"It's the truth."

"I don't know why, but I am trusting you with this, Malfoy. Will you keep your word and stay away?"

"I will." Draco slid a galleon across the bar to pay for Ron's meal and his coffee, with a generous tip to boot. He stood from his seat and started to walk away. He got three steps before he stopped again.

"Make her happy, Weasley. Make her laugh like you used to. Make all this shit worth something." 

Draco didn't turn to see Ron's reaction. He needed to get out of there. He needed a place to think, or to _not_ think. 

Somehow, he found himself back in Diagon Alley, standing in front of Florean Fortescue's. The damage to the store had already been repaired. Life went on around him as if it hadn't been drastically and hellishly altered in this very spot. As if he hadn't lost everything worth living for on the cobblestones he stood on right now. People jostled past him in the bright, late May sunshine, but he felt cold. He felt cold to his bones. Right here, is where Hermione had lain, bleeding out as their baby died inside of her. Right here is where his world had blown apart. He Disapparated home before he could do anything he regretted, like wind up in a holding cell for the destruction of public and private property.

* * *

Hermione was slowly starting to get her shit back together. She showered every day. This in itself, was a huge win for her. Once she showered, she ventured downstairs, sat and ate with her parents. The food still tasted like cardboard in her mouth, but her parents looked on with pride and approval in their eyes. Her father would go to work in the mornings, her mother in the afternoons. She was never left alone, and she wanted _so badly_ to be left alone. She picked up books to read but found herself staring at the same pages for an hour without a single word sinking in. Still, she reminded herself, this was progress. 

She'd been at home for two weeks when an owl arrived from Ron, asking her if she'd like to get out of the house and get a coffee. Just somewhere local, he had suggested. Somewhere not too far from the safety of home, she surmised. Even so, the idea of getting out of the house—of putting on clothes that were acceptable for public eyes, doing her hair and maybe adding a splash of makeup? Well, the idea was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. She replied immediately with a time and place.

The next day at three o'clock, Hermione found herself in her old favourite cafe. The one where she used to come to during the school holidays when she wasn't with Harry and Ron. This place had been a safe haven of good coffee, cakes and comfy chairs to lose herself in a book. The feeling returned to her as she stepped through the doors and made her way to a quiet corner. Hermione flipped the menu over and read through it as if she had never seen it before. It hadn't changed in years, the owner insisting on not fixing something that wasn't broken. But everything was broken these days, wasn't it? Or was that only her?

The bell over the door jingled, and Ron stepped through. His eyes adjusting to the dimmed lighting, he saw Hermione as she waved to him from her seat. A brilliant smile lit up his face, and for a moment, the breath left Hermione's lungs. Here he was, her friend. One of her best friends. Someone who knew her and loved her. Someone who would go through thick and thin with her. Someone who had broken her, and someone whom she had long since forgiven.

"Mione," he greeted, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the cheek. She fought the urge to recoil. Her instincts telling her that it wasn't right, that she belonged to someone else. But that wasn't true anymore. Ron could kiss her 'hello', and there wasn't anything wrong with that picture. She needed to readjust, that was all. 

"Hello, Ronald," Hermione smiled. It was a genuine smile. She was happy to see him, if not perplexed. Happiness was hard to come by lately. 

A teen appeared at their table, noisily chewing on some gum. 

"What can I getcha?" She asked, twirling a pen around and over her fingers, notebook at the ready.

"A cappuccino, please." Hermione requested. "Oh, and a piece of the devil's food cake, if you have it."

"Sure thing," the teen replied, "and you?" She turned to Ron.

"Oh, uh, yeah. What she said," Ron lifted his head in a nod to Hermione. 

"Two pieces of cake, two cappuccinos coming right up," the girl said, vanishing behind the counter.

"One day you will be proficient in making your own orders at Muggle restaurants," Hermione assured him with a wink. What was she doing? Getting out of the house and breathing fresh air was making her kooky. 

"One day," Ron agreed, "but today is not that day."

Hermione smiled at him as the coffee machine whirled to life, the sound of the milk steaming and frothing creating enough of a sound barrier between them and the waitress for Hermione to ask her most pressing question.

"So, what did you want to meet about?"

Suddenly, Ron looked nervous. A blush crept up his neck and to his ears, and he pulled at the neck of his t-shirt. "Oh, er. I just wanted to check in on you... See how you were doing. You look good, by the way—like you're feeling better. Are you? Feeling better, I mean?"

"A bit, yes," Hermione admitted, though it felt wrong to do so. 

"That's good," Ron mumbled as their waitress appeared at their table again, delivering their coffee and cake. 

Hermione let her fork sink into and slide through the cake, bringing it to her lips. It was heaven. She was half-way through it before she put her fork down and picked up her coffee.

"Ron," she prompted. "What did you want to talk about?"

Ron cradled the coffee cup in his hand. He'd been over this in his head a million times, but looking at her now, the words seemed to escape him. 

With a sigh, he started. "I've been trying to do it right, 'Mione. I've stayed away when you asked me to. I didn't fight against it when you told me about Malfoy. I've tried, I've really tried. I know you still love him—I know you probably will for a long time to come. I know it, and I'm ok with it. I love you anyway. I don't know where I belong without you, 'Mione. I know, I _know_ where I went wrong. I was stupid and inconsiderate, and just plain old idiotic. I was an arse, I know that. But you forgave me, right?"

Hermione hung her head, refusing to make eye contact as she twisted her hands around her mug. He paused for a little while, encouraged by Hermione's silence to just keep on going. 

"I know this is something you don't want to hear, something I might regret saying later on, but I don't think you were ever right for him. He certainly wasn't right for you. You're better than us all. I can't stop myself from wondering, from thinking what it might have been if I'd just gotten on the train to Hogwarts—gone back with you like we planned. I don't expect you to say anything now, to respond or anything like that. Hell, I'm just glad that you're still here listening. I know it will take time—I _want_ you to take the time. But when you're ready, I'll be there. If our history has taught me anything, it's that I belong with you, 'Mione, and I believe that you belong with me."

Hermione stayed silent the entire time. Her eyes were wet with tears, and she refused to look up, to meet his gaze. His words were all wrong. It was too soon. She'd never be able to love again. But his intentions were pure, she could see that. She could _know_ that because she knew him.

"Anyway, just something to think about," Ron said as he stood. He left some Muggle pounds on the table and placed his hand on her shoulder. This time, Hermione did flinch. Ron told himself not to let it bother him. "Will you be able to get home ok? Should I take you?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. She needed him to leave. She needed time and space to think.

"Alright then," he said softly. "Speak soon." 

Hermione only looked up once she heard the bell over the door jingle once more, signalling Ron's departure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first:
> 
> TW- Miscarriage/ Pregnancy Loss. 
> 
> I want to talk about this for a moment. This chapter was the hardest thing I have ever had to write. I cried and I tormented over it. Caitlin and Missy cried and tormented over it. But here is the thing: 1/4 women experience a miscarriage at least once in their life. One. In. Four. That's 25% of us. Pregnancy loss is not something I would wish on anyone, it is as horrendous as it is common. I anguished over whether or not I should write this chapter this way for too long, but I'm sick of it. Miscarriage is nothing to be ashamed of. It is not something to be swept under the rug. It is real and it affects people in ways you may never have even considered. Pregnancy loss is not a taboo subject, it deserves to be spoken about. If you or someone you loved has experienced a miscarriage, I am so sorry for your loss. I have looked into some support pages and this is one I found incredibly helpful. Here is the [Support Page](https://www.tommys.org/baby-loss-support/miscarriage-information-and-support/support-after-miscarriage) with some information that can educate, support & comfort. If you would like to reach out to me for any reason, you can find me on[facebook](https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100055497557512) and on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/whatsomalfoy). 
> 
> Song List:
> 
> Arcade - Duncan Laurence  
> Bridges - Earthlings  
> Ho Hey - The Lumineers


	20. Another Heart Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. First and foremost, Alphabet love goes to MissyJAnne85 & Caitlincheri28. You know how important you both are to me.
> 
> Secondly, as we dive into this chapter, I want you all to practice this mantra in your head... "This fic is Dramione, this fic is Dramione." For those of you who hate Ron, I'm sorry. Just ride this one last chapter with me and you will have your HEA epilogue - that is a promise. I don't know if now is the best time to let you all in on this secret or not, but I am doing it anyway. This fic was always canon-adjacent. It is 100% my headcanon and coping mechanism for how shit actually went down. It was designed to slot perfectly in between the books we have that tell us how it really happened - even if we don't like it and choose to ignore it. Having said that, I have updated the tags. Please, please - I know some of you will not be thrilled about it, but remember your mantra, my promise and that there is only one more chapter to go.
> 
> Songs can be found on this[ Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=gBCL9C7_Tg6Fb8coAmlmuQ). As usual, all songs used are listed in the end comments.

_Monday, September 2nd, 2002_

So. He'd done it. The prick Weasley had gone and closed the deal. It had taken the obnoxiously over-freckled git more than two years, but still, he’d done it. Draco stood, picked up his tumbler of whisky and hurled it across the room. It smashed upon contact with the wood panelling. Draco collapsed back into his chair with a huff. He braced his elbows on his desk and dropped his head into his hands. _The Daily Prophet_ was open on the desk in front of him. A full-page spread was dedicated to the announcement. He'd wanted this, hadn't he? Asked for it even. But seeing it all laid out in print, fucking pictures of the happy moment and all—it was too much.

_Two of the Golden Trio Set to Become a Duo._

_A tale of happily ever after, by Rita Skeeter_

The tagline was accompanied by a picture of Ronald dropping to his knee, a ring box proffered, while a shocked Hermione lifted her hands to her face, gazing down at him. 

Draco felt the bile rise in his throat. He couldn't even bring himself to read the fucking article. He pushed it aside and poured himself another drink. Like an open wound, his memories consumed him as he picked them apart. Hermione laughing. Hermione studying. Hermione as she brought a small cup of hot chocolate to her lips. Hermione with a Slytherin scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Hermione with her curls fanned out on the bed, naked as he lay next to her, over her, moving inside of her. Hermione cradled against him as she bled onto the stones. In his mind, Hermione over and over again. 

Clutching his cure, Draco waved his wand at the study door, locking it against any who may dare to intrude. He picked the paper from the floor and spread it in front of him again, watching Hermione's hands fly to cover her mouth again and again. Every time he watched hurt so much more than the time before. Inside, confusion raged and tormented against him. This was what he wanted. He'd _asked_ Weasley to make her happy. She _would_ be happy now—Weasley could make her happy. He needed to let it go—he didn't want to be the one that the battles always chose. 

Draco didn't know what was worth fighting for anymore, or why he felt the urge to scream. He stood from his chair and felt his legs wobble beneath him. A quick glance at the bottle of Macallan on the desk showed how much he had consumed. How long had he been locked in this room, drinking his feelings away? The newspaper was now scrunched up, lying in the waste paper bin, half-burned from a poorly cast _Incendio_. This was _all his fault_ , he was always the one in the wrong, wasn't he? So, this was how it would end. Hermione would marry Ron, and he would... what?

Draco stalked towards the door, intending to throw it open and call for his mother. To cry in her arms as he had when he was a small child. The cool metal of the door handle warmed under his touch. Turning his back on the door, he slid down it until he was sitting on the floor. Draco pressed the heels of his palms against his eye sockets, wishing for some clarity. He needed to get past Hermione. He would never be _over_ her, but he could break the habit that she was to him. That was it, he would break the habit tonight, and he would begin with a visit to the Malfoy family vault in Gringotts. 

* * *

_Monday, September 9th, 2002_

Hermione was getting ready for work. Her job at the Ministry of Magic was taxing; with long hours, tedious research requirements and slim to none results. Hermione _thrived_ on it. It kept her busy—both her hands and her mind. She was able to come home at night, eat a quiet meal with her parents and take herself to bed with ease. Every other night, she joined Ron at the Burrow. Molly was more than happy to accommodate her future daughter in law. 

_Future daughter in law,_ Hermione thought again. _Because I am marrying Ron,_ she looked down at the sparkling ruby on her left ring finger. _He is a good man,_ she thought. _He makes me laugh. We have more than enough history and the chemistry is still good. I can be happy._

Unease blossomed in her chest. Was she making the right decision? Surely it wasn't too late to call it off—they'd barely been engaged a week. Nothing was set in stone—she had time to think. If it hadn’t been for that bloody beetle, Hermione’s engagement would still be a secret. The damn witch had too much time on her hands if she was still able to follow her all over London. Which she did—often. Lifting her coffee cup to her lips, Hermione shook out the day's edition of _The Daily Prophet._ Reading through the first few pages was simultaneously irritating and boring. There was nothing new to report. Flipping to page six, her coffee cup slipped through her hands and shattered on the tiles at her feet. Hot coffee splattered the legs of her pyjamas, and ceramic shards littered the floor around her. _Fucking, fuck_. Hermione couldn't do anything but stare down at the paper in her hands.

_Malfoy Heir to Marry Youngest Greengrass,_ the headline screamed at her. The accompanying picture showed a stoic Draco sliding his arm around Astoria, his hand resting on the small of her back. The young blonde witch beaming with pride and joy, a massive diamond glinting on her finger. Hermione let the paper flutter to the floor, joining the mess of her forgotten coffee. She felt a sob rising in her throat and gripped at the kitchen counter. Her mother appeared in the kitchen, investigating the sound of the smashed coffee cup. 

"Hermione? What is it, darling?" She asked, stepping over the shards and spilled coffee to place a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. 

Hermione had covered her mouth with one shaking hand as if hoping that doing so would stem the pain that threatened to manifest in her throat. 

Jean Granger spotted the offending article with ease, "Oh, sweetheart," she said, picking the paper off the floor, folding it in half and throwing it on the table. Ceramic crunched under her thick-soled shoes as she stepped into her daughter's embrace.

Hermione cried into her mother's shoulder, knowing she had little right to do so. Jean rubbed soothing circles onto Hermione's back and made small shushing sounds against her ear. Pressing a kiss to Hermione's temple, she pulled back. "Even after all this time? After agreeing to marry Ron? You're still in love with him?"

Hermione couldn't bring herself to meet her mother's gaze. Draco would always be everything to her, didn't she know that? She had been able to love him from a distance, love him from her memories, love him for the possibilities—if only she could bring herself to look at him—and she still couldn't. Not even his picture in the paper. Turning away and to the sink, Hermione searched for paper towels to mop up the mess on the floor. She stood at the rubbish bin, holding the remains of her favourite mug in her hand, and willed herself to stop crying. 

Draco wasn't hers anymore. He hadn't been for a long time. And all of that had been her choice. She had no claim on him. No, that right belonged to the petite, beautiful blonde, pure-blood witch standing beside him in that photo. Hermione had known they were dating, of course. It had been splashed all over the gossip columns for months now, but engaged was far more serious than dating. She should know, after all. 

The ring Ron had given her the week previous felt dangerously heavy on her finger now. She had no right to be upset about Draco marrying Astoria when she was marrying Ron. So, that was how it would be, then. Their fates were both sealed now, and there was no going back. Hermione could only hope that Astoria would make him happy.

* * *

_Thursday, September 4, 2003_

_This was it_ , Hermione thought. She was standing inside Twilfitt and Tattings in Diagon Alley, with Mistress Twilfitt herself flitting around her. Hermione cringed as the witch took her wand to the bottom of her dress and snipped the over long tulle away from it. Her wedding dress. She was at her final fitting because her wedding was happening on Saturday. Three days from now, she would be a married woman. She would be a Weasley. 

She'd had to tell Molly that she couldn't come this time. The last two times Molly had come to see the dress, she'd been a blubbering mess and nearly stained the delicate silk bodice with her tears. Ginny and Luna were in the next room over, fitting their dresses. Her mother was sitting behind her in the reception room, gripping the stem of a champagne glass, and her eyes finding anything other than what Twilfitt was doing. Hermione made sure not to make eye contact in the mirror with her mother, confident that the horror would be reflected in her eyes, too. 

As the fabric fell away from the bottom of her dress, the bell over the door to the store sounded. The witch stepped away from Hermione to look up at her latest customer. In the mirror, Hermione saw the platinum blonde hair come into view. Spinning, she met the stone-grey eyes of one Draco Malfoy.

* * *

With his wedding this Saturday, Draco had been all but banished from the Manor, where it would be held. He was staying in Diagon Alley and had a list of things he was supposed to get done for the event. Picking up the groomsmen's robes from Twilfitt and Tattings was one of them. 

That was where he was when he saw Hermione in person for the first time in three years. She was resplendent in her wedding gown, long brown curls trailing down her back, the full skirt billowing as she twirled to face him. His breath caught in his throat, his lungs seizing with the incapacity to function. She was the epitome of perfection, even more stunning than his memories led him to believe. Here she was, exquisite in her white wedding gown, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, devastatingly so. None of it was for him. She wasn't his anymore.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy," Mistress Twilfitt said, standing between Draco and Hermione. "I expect you're here for the formal dress robes? I'll go and find Mr Tatting to help you. Oh, and congratulations for Saturday, dear."

Unable to remove his eyes from Hermione, Draco nodded once in Mistress Twilfitt's direction, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly. 

* * *

As Mistress Twilfitt darted away to find her business partner, Hermione wished that she could remove her gaze from the floor. A harsh sound broke her concentration on the ground. Ginny and Luna had emerged from the fitting rooms and clearly felt the tension in the room as Hermione's mother swivelled her head from her daughter to Draco. 

"Oh, Luna, sweetheart. Is your zipper stuck? Ginny, come and help me get Luna's dress fixed." Jean Granger stood quickly and shuffled the other two girls out of the room, ignoring Luna's protest that her dress was just fine. Just a moment later, Hermione was completely alone with Draco for the first time in more than three years.

"I—," she started.

"You look lovely," he said, his eyes flicking over her, drinking her in. _Breathtaking actually,_ is what he wanted to say as he forced air back into his lungs.

Hermione blushed deeply, suddenly embarrassed and wishing that the dress would just disintegrate. Of all the bloody times and places, _now_ is when they had to see each other? An earthquake could occur right this instant, and she didn't think either of them would feel it—the floor was already trembling beneath her.

"Your wedding?" She asked, instead. "It's this Saturday?" As if she didn't already know that they would be wed to different people on the same day. The ground should have just split open and swallowed her whole. _Seriously, Hermione,_ this _is what you're saying right now?_ Was it not enough that her body was betraying her, that her mind and mouth needed to as well?

"Er, yes. And yours?"

"Also this Saturday," she nodded.

A moment passed where neither of them was sure what to say.

Almost of its own volition, Draco saw his hand reach out to her, his mouth forming her name as his feet carried him forward. Horrified, mesmerised, he watched himself tuck a curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. 

A heavy sigh escaped Hermione as she leaned into his touch. Longing, pain and desperation coursed through her veins. Quickly, she caught at his fingers and removed them from her face. Draco stepped back immediately, cursing himself for needing to touch her. Everything would be so much worse now. 

"Draco, I —," Hermione's breath hitched and tears sprung to her eyes, clinging to the lashes. "I miss you," she admitted to him, to herself.

"I miss you, too," he told her. "Do you think that —"

"No." The word rushed from her mouth before she could stop it. She registered the pain on his face. Hermione couldn't help it. She knew what he was going to ask, and the answer was still 'no'. Her years of regret couldn't erase the suffering of what they had been through together. They couldn't even be friends, let alone anything else. "I mean," she reconsidered, "it's been a few years now, and I think I have figured out how to think about you without it ripping my heart out—but I know, Draco—you know—that we weren't meant for each other, and that's fine," she choked on the last word. "We've both moved on now, haven't we?"

"In one way or another, I suppose," Draco agreed reluctantly. "But if the world was ending..?"

"I'd find you," Hermione answered, no doubt in her mind.

"You'd come over?" He confirmed, ridiculous hope blooming somewhere behind his ribcage.

"And I'd stay the night." This time, Hermione moved to him. Carefully, lightly she placed her right hand—the one not encumbered with a jewel—on his chest, over his heart. "I'd love you for the hell of it."

"All our fears would be irrelevant. If the world was ending—"

"The sky would be falling as I held you tight against me," Hermione whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes closed.

"And there wouldn't be a reason why we'd even have to say goodbye. If the world was ending..." Draco placed his hands on either side of her face and lowered his head to hers.

Hermione shivered as Draco pressed his lips softly to her forehead, a final kiss before he stepped away, his hands dropping uselessly to the sides of his body.

"If the world was ending," Hermione agreed, stepping back to the middle of the room. 

"Ah, Mr Malfoy," Mr Tatting appeared in the reception room, Mistress Twilfitt hot on his heels. Hermione swiped quickly at the moisture in her eyes and turned back to the mirror. "There you are, I have the robes ready for your final inspection." Tattings placed his hand on Draco's arm and directed him to another room. Draco followed him without a backward glance.

* * *

_Saturday, September 6, 2003_

Saturday dawned bright and dewy. Hermione's hair was already in a state of disarray before she had even attempted to pull a brush through it. There was no need to do so, though, as Ginny bounded into her bedroom.

"Oh good, you're up," she grinned. "Today, Hermione, you become my sister for realsies!"

"That is sure one way to look at it," Hermione returned the smile. Today was her wedding day. Her wedding day and Draco's wedding day, yet they did not wed each other. No, Hermione was marrying Ron and Draco would marry Astoria. Just how it was always meant to be. And Hermione was happy, really, she was. Ron was wonderful, _had been_ wonderful for years now, and Hermione knew he would continue to be so. He had been patient in waiting for her—for her to recover from her losses, to move on, to be ready for something else. After she had gone to him, told him that she was willing to _try,_ he was soft, slow, gentle—everything that he had never been before. He was genuine with her, and slowly, she had come back to herself, had come back to Ron. She would have a happy life with him. She would have her career in the Ministry, she would have children, and she would have love. Hermione Jean Granger would have it all—she would have everything but Draco Malfoy—but she would be happy, she was determined. 

The morning passed in a blur of movement. Her mother, Molly, Ginny and Luna all flitting around; helping her get ready, getting themselves ready. Molly made sure everyone was plied with breakfast and enough Mimosas to put a spring in each of their steps. Seemingly before she knew it, her hair was straightened, braided, re-curled into submission and her face had been painted in a concoction of makeup so thick, she knew the early September heat stood no chance against it. Her mother helped her into her undergarments, and Ginny and Luna stood ready with her dress. All she had to do was step into it and let them lace her up. She did. 

* * *

Draco was sweltering in the late summer heat. His formal black dress robes were too tight around his neck, too heavy on his shoulders. Music swelled, and Pansy appeared at the end of the aisle, her bouquet of Baby's Breath and pink Peonies clasped in her hands. Briefly, Draco saw the life his father had planned for him. Then came Daphne, same dress, same bouquet, same slow glide toward him down the aisle. Lastly, Astoria arrived. Beautiful, she really was _very_ beautiful. Her gown flowed behind her. Daisies were woven into her fine golden hair. He was a lucky man, he knew. He would have a long, happy life—it just wouldn't be the life he wanted, with the woman he wanted. Unbidden, the image of Hermione in her wedding gown entered his mind. He saw her as he had just the other day, imagined her in Astoria's place, her steps evenly paced as she approached him. 

It was Astoria again, coming ever closer. Her smile was radiant as she took in her soon to be husband, her eyes dancing from Draco to their audience. Could he remember when he didn't care? When he and Hermione were just two kids, roaming the streets of Brussels—taking the moment when it was there. Could he remember them at all? 

Miles and miles away, in the garden of a different manor house, another heart called. 

* * *

Hermione glided towards Ron. Harry was at his side, George next to Harry. Luna and Ginny stood waiting for her, too. Her eyes flicked back to Ron, but he was gone. Standing in his place was a tall, platinum blonde. Hermione's heart seized as she willed her feet to keep moving. Memories flooded her. Memories from when she and Draco would steal the night—lying awake and dreaming together until the sun would wash the sky. But just as soon as she saw him standing at the end of the grassy aisle, he was gone. As deeply as she needed him, she needed her life with Ron more. Blinking once, twice, thrice, and it was Ron before her once more, his grin boyish and cheeky as he took her in. What could she do? 

_Say it's true_ , a deep voice so familiar to her whispered in her head. Startled, but not surprised, Hermione let his voice wash over her as she walked towards another man. _Or else everything that matters breaks in two._

Hermione took another step before Draco’s voice sounded in her head again. She had no idea how they were communicating, but she didn’t care. She needed closure right at this moment, and so did he. They would always love one another, even if it had all gone to shit. 

_Say it's true_ , the voice demanded.

_I'll never ask for anyone but you,_ Hermione promised to the voice, even as she handed her bouquet to Ginny and placed her hands in Ron's. Warm, sweaty, confident—Ron's hands in hers were what she needed to focus on—where her future lay. She banished the too intimate voice from her mind.

* * *

Draco's wand was in his hand, Astoria's in hers. Their left hands clasped and twisted over each other, as they chanted a spell of love, bonding, trust, honour and betrothal to one another. Golden wisps flew from the ends of their wands and wove a complex knot around their ring fingers, over their wrists, and into their skin. 

As the spell sunk into his skin, Draco offered one last message to the woman whom he wished stood before him now. 

_I know that what you want is to figure it out. Merlin knows I do too... but what can I do? I'll never ask for anyone but you._

His hand dropped to his side, and Astoria looked up at him, her smile blinding in its beauty. The officiant pronounced them officially married. Draco smiled a genuine smile for his bride, leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against her lips. She grinned against him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tightly against her. She was infectious, an otherwise perfect choice for him. Draco leaned into the kiss. He gave her as much of him as he could and roused cheers from their guests. His heart may long for another, but Astoria would make him happy, and he would do his best to do the same for her. 

* * *

Golden magic erupted from the end of Hermione's wand, and she heard someone in the crowd gasp and sniffle—Molly, undoubtedly. Her eyes met her husbands and a nervous laugh trilled through her at the thought. Ron was her husband now. The celebrant had declared it so. Ron was leaning towards her, and he sealed their nuptials with a kiss. Forgetting the voice in her head, Hermione moved her lips against his, a tear of joy leaking from her eye. They pulled away from one another, laughing as the cheering and wolf whistles bellowed from the crowded garden. 

* * *

_Seventeen years later_

Hermione found herself embroiled in yet another dangerous adventure. It had been years since they had been put to the test like this. It was all because Draco's insane aunt had done the nasty with Voldemort and spawned a she-devil, intent on reviving her father.

Hermione could hardly bear the thought that their children were living through a scenario similar to what they had done. It was all put into a horrifying perspective now that she was a mother, and she was immensely glad that _her_ parents never had any idea of what she got up to in her school years. Her panic over Rose's involvement and Hugo's interest in the matter didn't let her dwell on Scorpius, or his father, even if she felt the still familiar ache in her chest at the sight of him. 

But when it was all done and dusted, the bad guys vanquished, and the timelines set in their proper place, Hermione allowed herself a moment to look at Draco Malfoy. A moment for her eyes to meet his, for their hearts to reach out to one another. Just as they always had, even after all these years, just as they always would. She was tired of being here, in this emotional place—suppressed by all of her childish fears. Nearly twenty years on; a mostly happy marriage, two wonderful children, a fast-tracked career to the top... and her heart still throbbed at the sight of a man she'd had for less than a year. A year that had been filled with as much agony as it had happiness. She had to leave, to be away from him, away from his maddening scent, still of vetiver—of leather, and whisky, citrus and bergamot. Even away from him, his presence would linger in her mind—it wouldn't leave her alone. There was just too much that time could not erase. 

* * *

Astoria was gone, taken a year ago by a blood curse placed upon her by an ancestor. And then the time warp fuckery had begun, and Draco had to reorganise his priorities. When it was all done and dusted, Draco was able to grieve for his wife, the mother of his child. She had been more than wonderful to them both during her time in this world—and the guilt ate at him every day. It ate at him because he was also relieved that he no longer needed to pretend. The hand he'd held through all of these years had not belonged to his wife, it belonged to Hermione Granger—even if it resided solely in his mind—Hermione still held all of him. Astoria had been too good for him. He didn't deserve her or her love. Draco knew this because he had never been able to return it, no matter how hard he had tried. And he had. He had really, really tried, but Hermione had him captivated—her resonating light filling his darkest dreams. 

Now—now, he was bound by the life that was left behind. By now, in the world beyond, Astoria would know of his heart, how she had never held it in both hands, and she would hate him for it. He hated himself for it. Her face haunted his once pleasant dreams. Her voice chased away all of the sanity he had left. All Draco could do now was take the best care he could of his son, and dream of Hermione. Sometimes, in his darkest hours, with Scorpius at Hogwarts, Draco would feel Astoria haunting the halls of the Manor. She was still with him, but he had been alone all along. 

Draco sighed. Hermione was still married to Ron. It seemed his plan had worked after all and she had entered into a happy, life-long marriage with the Weasel. Even after all of these years, he couldn’t think of Ronald Weasley in any other way than a freckled thorn in his side. Sipping his Firewhisky, he mused once more over the situation. Until Hermione went her separate way from the greying redhead, he would leave her alone. Draco was a man of his word. He had carried out his responsibility to the Malfoy name and continued its pure-blood lineage. With his father gone from this world, he knew his son would never experience the same pressures. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaking The Habit - Linkin Park  
> If The World Was Ending - JP Saxe & Julia Michaels  
> Another Heart Calls - All American Rejects  
> My Immortal - Evanescense 
> 
> Missy, Caitlin and I are working hard to bring you the Epilogue before the usual posting date. I have high hopes that we can get it to you this weekend, but as usual - real-life priorities must come first. We're nearly done here, friends! Thank you for sticking with me so far!


	21. Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin, have mercy. It's here, friends. Early, as promised and a happy Friday to you all. Words can't begin to describe what I'm feeling right now. I've actually just welled up writing those few words... Bloody hell, get it together, Nat! Eff me. I can't believe it's done... My passion project, my ideal Dramione 8th year... Just slitting perfectly in between the canon cracks... Please bear with me while I say my thank you's.
> 
> ButterfliesAndShit. You guys. You have no idea how hard this girl worked on this moodboard. She is our Dramione moodboard Queen. Thank you, my sweetest! The image moves, but I am technologically challenged and cannot post the gif here. To see it, visit my [tumblr](https://va.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_qo2mfwkvOF1ym4xfj.mp4).
> 
> MissyJAnne85. Dammit. I'm crying again. This fic was going nowhere. Then I met you and my world changed. We connected on a ridiculous amount of levels and suddenly it wasn't just this fic that was incomplete without you. You changed the fic and you changed me. You're an amazing human being with a great big heart and the best sense of humour. I _adore_ you. Thank you for everything.
> 
> Caitlincheri28. Well, I'm still crying... Even though we met too late, you made our alphabet complete- you made **US** complete. God. We have laughed (a lot) together, cried (a lot) together and supported each other through so much. You leant not only your head but also your heart to the beta job - and to me. I don't know how we made it half-way without you. Thank you for everything.
> 
> Readers, where would I be without you all? Thank you, _thank you_ for your love, thoughts, tears and laughter. It has all touched me more than I can say. Thank you for trusting me to see you through this emotional rollercoaster.
> 
> My friends, I am officially a mess. Before I write another novel, let's move on.
> 
> Songs from today's chapter have been added to the Spotify Playlist, which can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7BTCmw28i4216Vjia9lstP?si=uaCvbEL-QZOYGBBvXLt7BQ). We're now totalling over 3.5 hours of songs over 21 chapters of fic. An epic playlist, if I do say so myself - and only a fraction of the songs I had in mind for it.

__

_Friday, May 14th, 2027_

Hermione spread the morning's edition of _The Prophet_ in front of her again. The tiny table was completely occupied by just the paper and a solitary teacup. The teacup itself sat empty, rimmed with hot chocolate as Hermione contemplated a refill. The headline screamed at her, and Hermione was sure that everyone within a hundred-foot radius must be able to hear it.

_Newly Re-elected Minister Falls From Grace_

Hermione had taken a sudden and immediate leave of absence from her position, citing that she, the Minister, was in desperate need of a holiday. In her shame, she fled to a city where she had only the fondest of memories. In Brussels, Hermione found a safe haven. She was far enough away from Britain to not be recognised, but not so far that she couldn't return at once if an emergency should occur. All these years later, she could revel in her memories of this city, no longer haunted by them.

_The Minister for Magic, Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, drops the "Weasley" from her name as she files for divorce from her husband of nearly twenty-five years. According to a close, personal friend, Ronald Bilius Weasley, War Hero, is distraught over the split. It has been suggested for years now that their union was an unhappy one, but as this story unfolds, a source tells this reporter that the marriage has always been a sham._

Hermione slammed the paper back down on the table, rattling the china and startling the young chocolatier. So, Rita Skeeter had a protégé. The beetle had finally retired just a few weeks ago, but not, it seemed, before she trained someone on how to effectively lie and stick their wands in places they didn't belong. Her marriage had _not_ been a sham. To insinuate so reduced her beloved children to nothing other than a phase in her life. Rose and Hugo were the best things to ever happen to her. She loved them more than life itself. However, though she had tried valiantly, she had also failed in her mission to love Ron as she had once loved another. Hermione signalled to the young woman to bring her another cup of the rich, sweet concoction. It tasted exactly as it had the first time she tried it, and as the smooth warm milk swept over her lips, Hermione stifled her moan of pleasure.

Slightly restored, she set her eyes on the article once more.

_In her last year of schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Minister was heavily rumoured to be involved in a captivatingly serious romance with ex Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. The relationship apparently came to a crashing end once our Minister was grievously injured in a duel with Rodolphus Lestrange (Malfoy's uncle by marriage), resulting in the infamous Death Eater's capture and imprisonment in Azkaban. Perhaps, our dear Minister never truly recovered from her wounds._

Hermione had never been more horrified at the written word than she was right at this moment. She had been hoping to escape for a little while after filing the divorce, but just the next day, she could see she would need to write to the editor at The Prophet and request a retraction... Or at least a rebuttal. There was no way she could let this article stand on its own. Her marriage had come to its natural end as Hugo graduated from Hogwarts and left to study dragons with his uncle Charlie. Rose was almost finished with her own academic pursuits in France, her relationship with Scorpius seeming to be very serious. Her child-rearing days were behind her, leaving her with only work to focus on as her home life hadn't been a happy one in years. Ron kept himself equally occupied with George at the shop. There was nothing left of their marriage for him to be _'distraught over'_ losing. Hermione wasn't quite sure what she would say in her rebuttal, but she knew she needed to start on it straight away. 

Folding the paper in half, and then again, she was just shoving it in her purse when someone recognised her. Here, of all places.

"Minister—?" 

Hermione stared down into the depths of her handbag, hoping the man would go away. The blood rushing through her ears made it difficult to realise that it was a voice she recognised. A voice she loved, though it was deeper now—tinged with middle age.

Hermione slowly lifted her eyes from her belongings and met the soft gaze of Draco Malfoy. Morgana, even though age had weathered him, he was just as handsome as he'd ever been. At nearly fifty years of age, she didn't think her heart capable of skipping like it was—thundering hard against her rib cage as if it could escape her. Air fled her lungs, and her mouth betrayed her brain. Of all the things she wanted to say, what emerged was, "How did you find me?" And she sounded as breathy as a love-drunk teenager. She could have happily dissolved on the spot.

Draco’s eyes narrowed for a moment—as if that wasn’t quite the reaction he’d expected. "Why, hello, Malfoy. Thank you for your votes these last two elections, I've really appreciated them. How are you? Would you care to join me?" He canted his head to the side, "Yes, Granger, I would. Thank you." Draco pulled out the second chair that crowded the small table and signalled the chocolatier for a cup of his own. He turned his attention back to Hermione, a grin playing on his lips. "Tell me, Granger—is it still better than sex?

Hermione was still trying to find her lost equilibrium—his comment doing absolutely nothing to assist her. The blush rose up her neck and settled on her cheeks as the memory flooded her. Mentally cursing herself, she pulled it together. _You're the fucking Minister for Magic, Hermione. Get it together._ Just the sight of him up close after all these years had her mind reeling and her heart racing. Of all the things she could have countered with, her question remained the same. "How did you find me?" She asked again.

Draco accepted his cup of hot chocolate with a smile, one that fell from his face as he looked back to Hermione. She tried not to think too desperately about it, but she could hardly blame him when her tone had been less than friendly.

"Rose," he said with a shrug.

"Rose?" Hermione looked up at him sharply, surprised with his answer.

"Yes. I saw the paper this morning and wished to speak with you—"

"Draco, it's been years—"

"Yes. And have things changed for you?" He had cut her off quickly, his eyes a molten silver. His self-confidence had never left, it would seem. He was insightful and to the point. Hermione, usually so witty, so quick, struggled to keep up with his pace.

"No. Yes. I— _what about Rose_?"

"The Ministry said you'd taken a week of leave. Everyone understood why—but no one knew where you went. So, I contacted Rose, and she thought maybe you had gone to your _favourite_ city. Why is it your favourite city, Hermione?"

His expression was some strange mix of amused, hurt and curious. He picked up his drink, and Hermione couldn't help but be drawn to the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean. Shifting in her seat, she was uncomfortable with her thoughts and her feelings. She was too damn old to be feeling like this. 

"You know perfectly well why it is my favourite city, Draco." She said, reaching for her bag, intending to leave the shop. She was flustered and in desperate need of air.

He stood with her, leaving far too much money on the table for his drink, he followed her out of the small shop. 

Hermione waited for him on the pavement, turning to him as he joined her on the street. 

"And the chocolatier? How did you know I would be there?"

"An educated guess," he replied simply. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he fell into step beside her. This was easy—walking next to each other, familiar—even if her heart was still trying to escape her ribcage. Muggle jeans she noticed, and not for the first time, looked entirely too good on him. He was standing there like heaven, while she might as well have been wearing the clothes she slept in. "I'm sorry about your divorce," he told her.

"Are you?" She asked, her first smile threatening to break through.

"No," he answered immediately. His eyebrow quirked, and he had that pulse-quickening smirk already on his mouth. Hermione's traitorous heart skipped another beat.

"Well, I'm sorry about Astoria. Truly—"

"That was a long time ago, Granger."

Ah, so they were back to 'Granger'. Either she'd already put her foot in it, or Astoria was a topic he didn't want to broach.

He softened his tone. "Astoria passed a long time ago. She was a wonderful woman, but she was never you. I think—I think that maybe she has finally forgiven me for not loving her as I should have. I hope she is at peace now."

Hermione found herself reaching for his hand—a gesture of comfort, she told herself. But as their fingers brushed, she withdrew. None of it was lost on Draco. 

"I think I went crazy—trying to stay sane, to keep my head out of the grave. I nearly lost who I was to the swirling haze when you left me, Granger. Astoria helped me heal."

"I needed to try to make some sense out of the mess in my brain, Draco. It took years and years. Ron helped _me \_ heal."

"I know," he said, and then more quietly, "I'd hoped he would."

They stayed quiet for a little while after that, tracing the ancient streets of an older city, each lost in their own memories.

"How are you holding up?" Draco broke the silence and the mounting tension.

"I've fled the country that I'm in charge of," she reminded him. "How do you _think_ I'm holding up?"

"I think I'd like you to answer the question—and honestly."

Hermione sighed. It was a good question, and she mulled over her answer for some time before she gave it. Draco waited patiently—which was something she'd never experienced before. This new side of him had her intrigued.

"I've never felt a time where everything I am has felt less defined. I guess I came to Brussels because it holds the safest place in my heart." Though she felt his stare searing through her, she refused to meet it. Her divorce wasn't even final yet, and here she was, accidentally reliving a romantic holiday with a man who still occupied her heart. _Just keep on breathing, Hermione._ She told herself. 

"I'm sorry," he said after a beat. "Genuinely this time."

"Thank you. I just need some time to process it all. It's been over for a long time, but now it's final. I need to look for a new house, and I need to get on top of that press release. The utter bullshit they print these days—"

"Is absolutely no different to the bullshit they used to print. Listen, Hermione. I came looking for you today with more than one thing to say to you. Firstly, you should know that I am just as in love with you as I was twenty-seven years ago."

Hermione stopped walking, her hands searching for something to clutch at and coming up empty. Gods, it couldn't be that surprising, could it? _She_ was still as in love with him as _she_ was twenty-seven years ago, too. Time had done nothing to diminish it for her, so why did she assume it had for him? But _fuck_ , if he wasn't being forward. Love him still she might, but this was too soon. She needed time—didn't she? Or had they already waited long enough? 

"Granger?"

"Second reason," she gasped, marching forward, "what was the second reason?"

Disappointed, Draco powered on. "Scorpius has requested access to the family jewels."

"And that concerns me how?" Hermione asked, confused. Still, it was better to focus on this than on... other things.

"The jewels, Granger. My son wants a Malfoy ring, and he wants to put it on your daughter's finger."

Hermione stopped walking again. Shock radiated through her. It really shouldn't have been a surprise. They were both young adults now, had been together for years, in fact—and they were very well matched. No, it shouldn't be a surprise at all. 

"Alright," she said slowly. "What do you need from me?"

"I need the Minister's help in breaking a family curse. I don't want our children to suffer what we did," sincerity dripped from every fibre of his being and Hermione thought that maybe she had never loved him more than in that moment.

"You'll have the very best team the Ministry has to offer."

"Thank you, Madam Minister," he bent over in a half-bow before her. When he righted himself, his smirk was not lost on her. "And about the other thing?"

"Let's go and get some lunch, shall we?" Hermione asked boldly. She was feeling suddenly brave.

* * *

Whatever they had discussed at lunch had already buried itself in the depths of her mind. Back in her hotel suite, all Hermione could focus on was his hands on her body and her hands on his. Nearly three decades had gone by, and her body was not what it once was—especially after two children, but he was worshipping her in the same way that he used to. As if the last time they had been together was three days ago instead of nearly thirty years. The way that Draco touched her brought into focus how often he must have thought of her, finding all of her sensitive spots with ease.

Hermione arched her chest against his, clawing at his buttons, attempting to rip the shirt from his body. She pulled away from his mouth, needing to draw breath—and with it came a realisation like a high dive into frozen waves. Hermione pushed away from him, holding one hand in front of herself to stop his advance and the other braced on her hip as she came to terms with what she was doing.

The past was coming back to life in front of her, and she was panicking. Similarly, Draco was drawing air into his own unsteady lungs, fighting for some semblance of certainty. If she fought against this fear of letting him back in, she would be inviting a healthy dose of selfish pain—could it be worth it? Like an accident waiting to happen, she could see their clock ticking down until it broke the glass and she would drown in him again. 

"Hermione?" Draco took a step towards her again, reaching for her. He needed to console her, to comfort her, to hold her against him. After all these years she was free and _right fucking there_ , and he needed her. He needed her like he needed oxygen. 

"Wait. Stop. Don't touch me just yet, please," she begged. Hurt and confusion flashed across his face. He found the nearest seat he could and sat in it, willing himself to be still. "When you touch me, it makes me forget all common sense. If you pull, then I'll push too deep, and I'll fall right back to you."

Apparently, this new, older version of Draco only had flashes of patience. He was back up on his feet again and talking quickly, his tone harsh as his emotions tumbled out with his words.

"Good, Hermione—good! You are the piece of me I wish I didn't need. All these years my heart has been chasing you, relentlessly—even when I begged it not to. But you're here now, we're both single again, we can move on with our lives—but you're still fighting it, and I don't know why! If our love is a tragedy, why are you my remedy?" He was breathing harshly now, waiting for a response from her. 

She loved him, she did. She wanted him more than she wanted her next breath. Why was she fighting this so hard? To save face? Her reputation was at stake, of course. She was in charge of a whole country, and her name was currently rubbish in the papers. This would only fuel the flames.

"If we do this, no one can know. _No one_ , Draco—not even Scorpius or Rose. Not for a good damn long while, anyway. My divorce isn't even finalised yet, but dammit—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated, “in all this insanity you're _still_ my clarity," she rushed to him and took his lips in hers once more. She kissed him fiercely, her fingers slipping through his hair and taking hold as he bunched his fists in her loose woollen jumper. His kiss possessed her, Draco was everywhere, his scent inhibiting her, his touch incapacitating her, and she was lost in him. 

Somehow, they made it to the bed, their clothes littered around the room. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione was self-conscious of her body, of the fact that she hadn't had sex for at least year, but she couldn't bring herself to think on it. Draco was perfect even with all of his imperfections. His dark mark all but faded, the crisscrossing scars from a long-forgotten _Sectumsempra_ still glistened faintly when the light touched them. Hermione could trace them from memory. Draco was still finely toned _—_ as if he expected to walk onto a Quidditch pitch and take to the air at any given moment. 

All of this fell to the wayside as his thigh slipped between hers, pressing against her wanton heat and his mouth took a breast as a willing hostage. "Draco," she panted, "I need you, please." 

Draco removed his mouth from her breast and shifted a little, fixing his lips to hers as he slid between her legs. Opening her, stretching her, filling her, he waited for her body to adjust, to re-acclimate—and then he started moving. Slowly, at first. He wanted to enjoy it, he wanted _her_ to enjoy it. He needed to give her everything he hadn't been able to in all of the years they had missed. But she writhed underneath him, locking her ankles around his hips and pulling him closer, urging him faster, harder—until his name burst forth from her lips and she stilled beneath him. He followed her one thrust later, falling to the side and pulling her in close. 

"I love you, Granger. Always have, always will," he whispered against her neck. The way she slotted against him felt exactly as it used to, and she revelled in the feeling. 

* * *

_Thursday, June 1st, 2028_

"Granger, it's been a year. Scorpius and Rose want to start planning their wedding. It's time. The curse-breakers are ready. Are you?"

"What would I do without your smart mouth?" Hermione looked up from her paperwork. She was drowning in it, as always. How Fudge seemed to have all this time to gallivant from The Leaky Cauldron and over to Hogwarts, she'd never understand.

Draco offered her a lazy smirk. "Hello, Granger? Are you going to answer the question? What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

"Yes, ok. Let's do it," she told him, her smile dazzling. "But let the record show that you're crazy, and I'm out of my mind."

Draco crossed the room and plucked the parchment out of her hands, setting it back in her in-tray. "All of me loves all of you, Hermione. That's not crazy. You're my end and my beginning—so even if we people think we've lost it, we'll know that we're still winning."

"Alright, alright," Hermione laughed, suddenly giddy. "We'll call a press conference tomorrow. We'll let the whole of Wizarding Britain in on the secret."

"It's about fucking time, too. I'm ready to take you on a real date."

Hermione stood from her chair and moved around her desk. She threw her arms around his neck and leaned into him. "Are you suggesting that you're tired of Moppy's cooking?"

"Never," he said, placing a quick kiss on her lips. "Simply that I'd like to see you outside of the same sets of four walls. Plus, Scorp and Rose are sick of us. As supportive as they have been, I think they’d like a night away from seeing their parents act like lovesick teenagers."

"Mmm," she chuckled, lifting her chin for another kiss. "You’re right about that. I guess I can let that slide, then."

* * *

The next day, Hermione called a press conference to be held outside the Malfoy Manor. Officially, it was to announce that for the last year, the Ministry's curse-breakers had been working on their hardest job to date, and it was all about to be put into fruition. 

The cameras snapped away, reporters hovered in eager anticipation, their quick-quotes-quills flitting through the air. The team of curse-breakers stepped through the crowds and started to make their way over the white pebble driveway. With one last look at the reporters and photographers surrounding her, Hermione stepped off her podium and met Draco just inside the gate. With a last wave to the press, Hermione turned her back on them and took Draco's hand in hers. Quickly he leant down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. 

Together, with their fingers intertwined, they strode behind the curse-breakers into their home, the lights of the cameras flashing behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I _know_ that this may not be what a lot of you classify as a HEA. I get it, I do. But let's take a minute to breathe. Happily Ever After's don't only occur when you're young. Sometimes, life is shit and things get in the way. Sometimes, we can't reconcile our heart with our head. Sometimes, what we want isn't always what is best for us. Sometimes, you have to live a life before you can find your true love. Draco and Hermione might have missed 30 years together, but they're healthy - and they're wizards. Their kids are grown... They have the next 40+ years to love and be loved by one another. As my dear Alpha, Missy, said not too long ago - this was never meant to be a Disney ending... It was, after all - A Losing Game.
> 
> Clothes I Slept In - Luca Brasi  
> Clarity - Zedd ft. Foxes  
> All Of Me - John Legend


End file.
